


The Undertow

by astriddanes



Category: World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Alliance Through Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon is malleable and Azshara is hot goodbye, Enemies to Allies To Lovers, F/F, Mer!Jaina, Morally Ambiguous Character, Political Alliances, Political Marriage, Rating to Change, seafucking is valid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2019-10-11 04:13:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17439740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astriddanes/pseuds/astriddanes
Summary: Jaina Proudmoore, guilt-ridden and seeking atonement, casts herself in the role as protector of Kul Tiras. In her pursuit to safeguard her home, she crosses paths with queen Azshara, whose murky intentions intrigue Jaina. To strike at the heart of the corruption threatening the ruin of both land and sea, they enter into an alliance together. By marriage. Together, they wage war against the Old God at the bottom of the sea - and along the way, former enemies become allies, become lovers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: This is not the story you nor I expected. This fall/winter was big time Rough for me on many levels (losing a dear family member, among others) so I eased my way back into writing during the last month with this. It is mostly finished and will be posted as chapters are edited to my standard. Remaining WIPs will enjoy indefinite hiatus until otherwise updated, but I do hope to finish them. That's all I can promise. 
> 
> Note 2: Yes this is Azshara/Jaina political marriage. I thought I was going to put this pairing behind me but alas, that terrifying queen had other plans.

 

 

 

> _In the founding year, an oracle sister whose name has been crossed out of records, may the waters drown her memory, sat at the seashore for three days and three nights. She returned to the rest of us with a prophecy: that one day, the seas will part, and the truth laid bare. That in the days leading up to this great reckoning, the voices of the sea will rise and rise, a thundering ocean choir to drown out all else. That a lost soul will return, and doom the islands._
> 
> _She was the first to fall. She was the first to be forgotten. We remind all sages to know restraint when listening to the ocean. If you falter, if you show weakness, the sea will not be kind._
> 
>  
> 
> – _The Scriptures of the Sea: Volume I,_ written by Sister Arinthine, year 3 of the Tidesage Order
> 
>  

* * *

 

She had lost everything and run out of excuses.

 

It had not been easy, returning home to Kul Tiras. The guilt weighed heavy when she landed in Boralus, and she watched her mother speak to the crowds at the gates of Proudmoore Keep. She had managed to time her arrival to the annual state of the nation speech, Katherine speaking of strength, of staying together, even as the skies split open with fel-green tears above them.

 

Jaina realized she had forgotten the sound of her mother’s own voice. So much time had passed. The Kul Tiras she dreamt about had changed.

 

Jaina wandered the lands, keeping her hood down as she protected the shores from demons. It was a kind of atonement. It was all she knew how to do with herself. Be a weapon. Protect those who cannot protect themselves. Try and sleep without the dead haunting you. Keep your head down in inns and stay in your own corner. Repeat.

 

She needed to stay exhausted enough that she did not dream at night. It helped. 

 

She heard people talking of missing sailors. Of the fleet not having docked at the dates it should have. She bit the inside of her cheek, thinking of the captain of them. Her brother. They were presumed lost at sea. 

 

Trying to mourn seemed selfish. She threw herself fully into the task at hand. 

 

When the demons were all gone, everyone else celebrated. Her skin itched. She did not know what to do with herself. So she continued. She travelled between the villages, rooting out problems, fixing issues. It could be as small as finding a girl’s lost doll deep in a cursed forest. Sometimes as big as sinking a fleet of pirate ships. It all felt the same at the end of the day. She felt like she was sleepwalking towards some nebulous doom.

 

Posters appeared on walls, bearing her resemblance. Payment offered for tips leading to her apprehension. Jaina burned them as she saw them. When everything was fixed she would turn herself over, peacefully, and face whatever charges they had to bring against her. Just not yet. 

 

She heard rumors of trouble brewing in Stormsong Valley and set off to help, but nothing could have prepared her for what she was about to find. The tidesage order in complete breakdown and disarray, naga on every shore, and enemies in the midst of each village. Legends of nightmare turning out to be true.

 

In her youth, she trained – briefly – with tidesages. Watching them fall apart, turn on each other, and morph into monstrosities stirred something in her. At night she sat alone, sipping wine, thinking endlessly about her childhood. Thinking about lost opportunities, roads not taken. Thinking about her mother. 

 

If she had not left Kul Tiras to pursue magic studies in Dalaran, what then? If she had not turned her back on Arthas, what then? If she had not failed in protecting Theramore, what then? The questions bit off more and more of her. Regrets were relentless. She thought she had gotten better at staving them off, but being back home – her first home, her ancestral home – twisted the knife deep within her. 

 

Eluding guards became harder and harder. It wasn’t her intention to evade the law, but she had to see this through. She had to end the corruption at the source. Only when lord Stormsong lay dead at her feet did she shed the hood and wait for the guards to come.

 

They took her to her mother where she kneeled, tired and dirty and worn out. She was ready for judgement. She had done what she could to atone to Kul Tiras. The rest would be history soon enough.

 

She kept her gaze locked steady on her mother’s boots as they drew closer, the steps echoing in the empty hall.

 

Katherine’s cold voice cut through the silence. ”You.” It sounded like an accusation.

 

”Mother…”

 

” _You_ are the savior of Kul Tiras?”

 

Jaina mouthed silently, confused. All she had done was help. Nothing more. 

 

”The sea has a twisted sense of humor.” 

 

Katherine touched Jaina’s hair, and it felt like a lightning bolt shooting through Jaina. Everything she had tried to keep tucked away and buried deep flooded out. She let out a choked noise, her hand clutching at the hem of her mother’s jacket as she looked up to meet her mother’s eyes.

 

Jaina had prepared herself for harshness. For disgust. For every judgement she deserved. 

 

Instead her mother’s eyes were brimming over with tears.

 

”I’m sorry,” Jaina whispered. ”For everything.”

 

”Me too,” Katherine said, sinking down on her knees to hug her daughter.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It had been a long day. Her old rooms in Proudmoore Keep had been practically untouched since she left, the bed too small and the toys staring at her with hollowed eyes. Yet she had opted to sleep there even when Katherine offered the lavish guest rooms, and the entire day had passed by as she buried her face into the pillows and slept a dreamless sleep.

 

It was well past midnight when she woke up, her room shrouded in what seemed like mist. Wet droplets stuck to everything, the dolls and stuffed toys, her clothing and face. She summoned a light and went to explore the corridor – empty, silent, shrouded as well. 

 

She wandered the Keep, touching the walls that seemed to be dripping with water. Puddles splashed underneath her as she walked, and paintings on the wall were crumbling. 

 

At the end of the hall, two glass doors opened up to a small terrace, and Jaina thought she could see someone standing there. 

 

”Mother?” Jaina asked, cautious as she approached. 

 

Katherine turned her head, the cool gaze freezing Jaina in her step. Her mother had grown hard and sharp in the time she had been away. Jaina knew the process intimately –her father, Theramore, the Horde, the wars – had put their own impression upon her, had filed away at the soft and gentle parts of her. They had talked so much, but it felt like they were strangers trying to play family. Ghosts circling each other trying to connect.

 

”The fog is dense tonight,” Katherine said, resuming her lookout over the harbor. ”You cannot even see the lighthouse.”

 

Jaina raised a hand and conjured a light that shot from her hand like a firework. It flew out into the air and silently burst into an explosion of light, the suspended drops of water hanging in the air reflecting and muting the light. 

 

”It’s not a natural fog,” Jaina said. ”It looks like it, but I can see the threads of magic throughout it.”

 

”I may not be versed in magic, but even I know that.” Katherine sighed, rubbing at her forehead. ”I am sorry. I did not mean to–”

 

”No, no, it’s fine, I understand,” Jaina hurried before Katherine could finish. 

 

They stood silent for an awkward minute, neither looking at the other, until Katherine broke the tension.  

”It started a few months ago. Every night it haunts Boralus. The tidesages withdrew, and even though many have tried to split the fog, nothing works. There are so many things that are wrong these days.” Katherine leaned forward, resting her elbows on the balustrade. ”More and more ships are disappearing. Or we find them abandoned and empty, the cargo intact but the crew missing.”

 

”Why have you not told me? I could do something.”

 

”What is there to tell? Things are going wrong. Even the sea itself turns against our nation.” Katherine shrugged. ”Superstitious people will say we are cursed because you are back.”

 

A weight settled into Jaina’s chest. She wanted to apologize. She wanted to fight back. She didn’t know which emotion to follow, and stayed silent, ashamed. 

 

Katherine studied Jaina’s face, her eyes softening. ”It is not your fault. It’s just… The people will never trust you.”

 

”Will you?”

 

Katherine averted her face. ”I will try, Jaina. I really want to. It’s just…” A bright light flashed out on the waters, interrupting her. After a minute a low boom thundered out, not quite natural, reverberating in Jaina’s chest. 

 

”What is that?”

 

”I will go find out. Lower the gates.”

 

”Jaina–”

 

”I’ll be fine, mother.” She teleported away before Katherine could reply. 

 

The tranquil waters of the harbor turned to ice under her feet, conjured lights floating in front of her. She could feel the tension of magic in the air, ancient and powerful, unlike anything she had come across in her years. It seemed alive around her, breathing, twisting. The lights had come to meet her, and were now guiding her further out, towards the scattering of tidal islands at the edge of the harbor. 

 

She did not trust them. They reeked of another’s magic. Ancient and strange. 

 

The lights flitted and rolled in front of her, almost playful. She rolled her eyes. ”Just lead me there,” she whispered. 

 

In that moment, the fog parted, revealing a lone tall woman — a night elf woman – sitting on slick black rocks, water lapping softly at her feet submerged in the sea. Her long, wet hair trailed over her chest, fingers combing through the white tresses, and her skin gleamed in the muted moonlight shining down on her. 

 

”There you are,” the woman spoke, not looking up from her own hair pooling in her lap. ”I have been waiting.”

 

Jaina swallowed. She was on guard, the air brimming with a charge of ancient arcane magic, of illusions. Powerful too. She thought she saw movements under the surface, red eyes, but the next second they were gone. The night must be getting to her, she reasoned. That’s it. That is all it is.

 

”Why are you here?” Jaina demanded. She summoned up magic to brim just at the tip of her fingers, ready to cast any number of spells with just a twitch of her wrist.

 

”I came to see who has been causing me such trouble,” the night elf said, her bright golden eyes fixed on Jaina. Her intense gaze rendered Jaina breathless. She was beautiful. She was powerful. She made Jaina’s skin prickle – but she could not tell the messy feelings apart. Fear or something else – whatever it was, the woman noticed her effect on Jaina and her hard face softened into a small smile. ”And it is only you, isn’t it? One lone human. So young. So fragile. Really, just nothing.”

 

”Hollow insults don’t work on me.”

 

The woman ceased combing her hair, putting chin in her hand as she leaned forward to Jaina, eyes narrowing as she beckoned a finger. ”Come closer.” Jaina took a step forward. ”Closer.” Even when she sat down, she towered a full head above Jaina. ” _Closer_.” Jaina stood so close to her that she could smell her – strange flowers, arcane magic and sea salt, above all, as if she had been swimming all day.

 

Jaina held her breath as the woman studied her, Jaina flicking her eyes around, struggling to find a point to focus on. She noticed that the woman seemed to not be wearing clothes, the only thing barely covering her naked body being the long white hair. There seemed to be scars – markings maybe – on her neck, slits that looked like gills. Jaina did not know what to make of this strange being.

 

She couldn’t keep silent any longer. ” _Who_ are you?” The question burst out of her mouth. 

 

The woman ignored her question. ”Unleash your magic.”

 

”I’m sorry?”

 

”Unleash it all on me. Your absolute worst. Summon up all the power you possess. Try to annihilate me.” When Jaina hesitated, the woman furrowed her brow. ”Perhaps you truly are nothing, after all.”

 

Jaina knew she was being goaded. It did work though. She let go of the magic that had welled up in her, feeling it thrum in her veins as she focused it all on the woman in front of her, ice splintering as new shards pierced through, volatile arcane spells making the air crackle and the hairs on her arms stand up. 

 

She had not done something like this since Theramore. Since she walked among the scorched ruins and wanted vengeance for all the lives lost. It was a feeling she had almost missed, and it terrified her. She caught herself and stopped her onslaught of magic, leaning heavily on the staff in her arms as she gasped for air. 

 

Untouched and unfazed, the woman sat still in front of her. She seemed amused. 

 

”How…” She should not have survived that. No barrier should have been able to withstand that surge of power.

 

”Not bad. Not bad at all.”

 

”How did you…” Jaina felt dizzy trying to wrap her mind around it.

 

”Don’t you feel it?”

 

She did. The ancient magic laid bare, surrounding the woman in layers upon layers, shielding her from any possible harm. Impervious to all harmful spells Jaina knew. It would take her hours, if not days, to decipher the runes and draw up ones to counter-act. 

 

”Who are you?” Jaina repeated. 

 

The woman held up her hand, studying her sharp fingernails. It seemed like scales shimmered on her arm. ”I must commend you on the demons you slaughtered. Their fel blood tainted my waters. You are like an army all of your own.”

 

”Answer my question.”

 

”You ask and ask. I should be offended you do not know.” She put a finger under Jaina’s chin, her touch making Jaina shiver. She was brimming over with magic, with a power unlike anything she had encountered before.

 

Then the illusion broke. What had been legs became long tentacles, curling around the rock. The hair in her lap became long white tendrils, and what Jaina had mistaken for tattoos were in fact gills and scales, and the face… Five eyes gazed down upon her. She was beautiful. She was terrifying.

 

”I am the queen of the seas,” she said, her golden eyes stained red, looking like a burning sunset. ”I am the queen of the naga.” 

 

”You… I know you,” Jaina gasped.

 

”Speak my name.”

 

” _Azshara_.”

 

She laughed. ”Very good. It seems some land-walkers know their history, at least.”

 

Jaina pushed Azshara’s hand away from her chin. ”Your naga have ruined Kul Tiran shores. Your poison has tainted the tidesage order.”

 

”You think my naga are the enemy? You think I have ruined your precious little island?” Azshara drew herself up, but the playful smile still lingered on her lips. ”You come so close to the truth, and then miss it. It would be almost adorable. I expected more from you. I have heard the songs your sailors sing about you. I have seen the carnage you can create.”

 

Jaina took two steps back, refusing to answer as she held on tight to her staff. 

 

Azshara laughed, deep and rumbling. ”Very well. I will bestow a gift upon you. A gift, and a warning. Do not strike at me again. The wrath of the sea should terrify you.”

 

”The sea has never scared me,” Jaina bit back. 

 

She smiled wide, her fangs gleaming in the moonlight. ”I have heard your mother’s calls at night. This is me answering.”

 

A great wave rose up, and Jaina barely had time to shield herself and portal back to the harbor before it hit her. The last she saw of Azshara was the queen’s threatening smile, the five eyes burning in her mind.

 

Landing in the harbor, the fog parted instantly, and a dozen Kul Tiran ships crowded the waters, all with slack sails fully raised. The missing fleet. It had to be. That meant…

 

Jaina ported her way onto the flagship, the decks slick with water. Sailors sat out on the open deck, all seemingly lost in a stupor. She wanted to check in on each of them, make sure they were alright, but she had to find the captain. She had to know. 

 

Slumped over the ship’s wheel, her brother clung on with weak hands.

 

”Tandred!” She loosened his grip, and he let her, sighing heavily as he slumped back against her. 

 

”Jaina…” He blinked, his eyes focusing. ”Jaina? By the tide, I must be losing it… Not another dream…”

 

”No, Tandred, stay with me.” Jaina forced a smile. ”You’re home. You are in Boralus.”

 

Tandred blinked. ”So you came home after all, sister. Mother must be happy.” 

 

”What happened to you?” Jaina helped him up, supporting his unsteady steps.

 

”A mist that never lifted took the ships, and no matter how hard or slow we sailed, we could not find our way out of it. When we slept, we had such horrible nightmares. So we tried to stay awake, but then that began to turn into dreams… The lines blurred.”

 

”You’re home now. It will be okay.”

 

Tandred drew in a deep breath. ”We dreamt of red eyes under the water…”

 

Jaina froze. ”What did they look like?”

 

”Like fire. Like sunsets.” 

 

She squeezed Tandred’s hand, trying to comfort him. Trying not to think of Azshara’s eyes, burned into the back of her eyelids. _A gift, and a warning._

 


	2. Chapter 2

> _Since the inception of our order, we have been tasked with knowing the waters that churn around the isles, that rule our lives. We have shouldered the burden of attempting control of it. To the layman, it may seem that we do. The first thing an initiate must know is that it a misconception. We are allowed to skim the surface of it, but we are naught but fleas upon the back of a great beast. This is the first thing you must know._
> 
>  
> 
> _The second: deep below the waves, She watches us all. And it is to Her we must turn our prayers. The Tidemother._
> 
>  
> 
> — from _The Initiation: A Guide_ , written by a Tidesister Shaaye

 

* * *

 

 

The tidesage brother eyed Jaina Proudmoore up and down, not even attempting to conceal his disapproval. ”We do not usually allow drop-outs such as yourself to enter here.”

 

Jaina raised her chin. ”The Admiralty disagrees. You forfeited your right to such privacies after Stormsong.”

 

”We have been here longer than your family has–”

 

” _My_ family has not brought the nation to its knees through such careless actions.” She tapped her staff against the ground, glaring at him. ”You can file a complaint if it matters so much to you. But answer to the dead first, and their mourning families.”

 

Brother Therold grumbled, clinking the heavy keys against each other. ”The actions of a few damn the entire order. Is that how it is now?”

 

”It is how it must be, brother.”

 

”Very well.” He turned and set off down the corridor.

 

She remembered the tidesage sanctuary, though in her memory it had been bigger, more imposing. The damp stones and the smell of seawater permeating every corner of the building. 

 

She had been so young when she started coming here for tutoring and lessons in attempts to pursue the honored traditions. It just had not been the right place. And it had not been her path to take. She dragged her fingertips along the wall, feeling the surge of magic within them. Blessed and sanctified with the tide magic. Familiar, yet not quite hers. 

 

”How far along did you train here?” The brother asked over his shoulder.

 

”Enough to know it wasn’t for me.” She kept her voice crisp enough to convey that no, this was not a day for talking. She had left Tandred in Katherine’s care. It was less complicated. He could be a hero of the nation – already was – and she clung to the shadows, staying out of sight and mind. 

 

To get the people to love her again, she would have to do something grand. She did not care about big gestures. She just wanted to keep them safe. And this was a threat she could deal with alone.

 

He stopped in front of an adorned door, tentacles made of copper curling across it, the patina tinging them gleaming green. ”You turned away so much, diverting from this path.” Unlocking the door, he pushed it open with some effort. 

 

Inside, stained glass ceiling windows tinted the massive room in blues and greens. Shelves curved under the weight of scrolls and tomes, all in a haphazard and neglected mess. She only came here a few times, but had often thought back on it, shrouded in that dreamy haze of nostalgia. Of course, in those dreams, the floor wasn’t stained with blood.

 

”Considering all that has happened, I believe I made a wise choice,” Jaina commented dryly, stepping over the bloodied spots and eyeing the library. ”Were you initiated?”

 

”Yes.”

 

”So the Tidemother speaks to you?”

 

”I do not listen.” He breathed in sharply. ”I try not to.”

 

”What does she say?”

 

”Terrible things. Unspeakable.”

 

Jaina thumbed the back of a series of volumes, tracing the embossed letters. ”Tell me.”

 

He shook his head. ”When I say unspeakable, it is a language you would not understand. The words of the waters… You do not know.” 

 

She pulled out a book and used a levitate spell to fly it over to a table. ”Then I will learn.”

 

He grimaced, a look of pain and anger, but said nothing else as he left the library.

 

Left alone, she sighed, undoing the cloak and leaning her staff against a table as she began to gather up materials. She had a long day ahead of her.

 

For hours, she sat alone in the library, starting with the oldest tomes and working her way through the ages toward present day. She did not know exactly what she was looking for, but the trail lay scattered among the pages. The Tidemother. The whispers. The descriptions. Eyes like sunsets that met the most devoted. A voice to stir or calm the ocean. 

 

She had been sitting in on the Stormsong inquisitional hearings as the representative for house Proudmoore and the Admiralty, listening to the few tidesages left alive recount their stories. It was a favor to her mother. Shouldering responsibilities so she could spend time with her weakened son. At least this way Jaina could piece at the puzzle gnawing at her.

 

And oh, the stories the tidesages told.

 

How the once benevolent and loving Tidemother had changed, how her voice had egged more and more on towards the edge. Where they had given and cared for Kul Tiras as an act of love, shouldered their responsibilities with the weight of a nation’s well-being as their driving reason, the Tidemother had whispered how it wasn’t enough. Did they not deserve more? Were they not the heart of the nation?

 

The Tidemother sounded the same, some of them said. Just that her tone changed. Just that the waters did not yield to them unless they gave something to her first.

 

_How long has this been going on?_ the representative from Waycrest had asked. And the answers varied, but one admitted to years. Years of surrendering pieces of themselves to a voice twisting them more and more. It had been slow, so incremental they had not thought it odd. _It is the way of the tide. It comes, it goes. We exchange. She gives, we give back. We give, she gives back. It is an eternal cycle._

 

Words on the page began to bleed into each other. Jaina blinked, sighed and rubbed at her eyes. A heavy water droplet fell onto the page, wetting the paper and dissolving the ink. She cursed and tried to soak the water up with her sleeve, but it kept spreading, turning the whole rest of the book into a dissolved mess.

 

The door creaked at the other side of the library, and she froze. ”Hello?” she called out. ”Brother?” When she spoke, a cloud of mist rose from her lips.

 

She heard something moving – splashes of water, but before she could see the room was thrown into darkness as all the lights went out. Her breath trembled for a moment before she raised her hand to conjure light, but a hand gripped her wrist and squeezed. 

 

”Who–” Before she could finish speaking, a finger pressed against her lips, cutting her words off. 

 

”You are so inquisitive.” The voice, soft and feminine, right at Jaina’s ear. She attempted to turn her head but another hand caught her jaw, holding her still. ”Ah ah ah. Be still now.”

 

The books in front of her were shoved onto the floor, splashing into water puddles. Light caught on gold and pearls, onto a torso of dark scales. ”I mean you no harm, for now,” Azshara said, letting go of Jaina as she sat down on the table. One moment she was naga – the next night elf – and then back again. ”But what are you planning? Scouring the libraries of the dead and dying, seeking what – answers?”

 

”Yes.”

 

 

”Do you want to be the hero who strikes down a corrupt queen? Is that it?”

 

”No. I only seek to protect,” Jaina spat back.

 

”Don’t we all.”

 

Water rushed into the library, crashing against the walls and shelves, surging up against Jaina’s ankles. The person whispered something against her neck, tender but impossible to understand, a language she did not know – only that it caused chills to run down her spine. 

 

No. She had not come this far to have it all pulled away from her. Calling on all the magic she had, she threw up a shield to encapsulate the room and push the water out. Even as the waters surged and crushed in on her barrier, it held. The arcane magic lit up the room in a cool turquoise glow, illuminating Azshara. 

 

She towered over Jaina, her head turned so that Jaina only saw her profile. Long white hair – no, tendrils – draped over her shoulders, her golden eyes gleaming as she blinked slowly, taking in the spell around her. Her lips curled into a smile, the sharp fangs of her mouth glistening in the dim glow. She turned her gaze to Jaina, the intensity of her eyes burning.

 

”I will not be interrupted.” Jaina still felt the four hands on her, felt something circling around her ankle, snaking its way up her legs. 

 

”Very well,” Azshara said, smile curling across her lips. ”Strike against me, if you think it will save your people. The weak will die. The lands will sink. I will wait for your body to hit the ocean floor.” She put her mouth against Jaina’s ear, her lips brushing the earlobe. It sent an odd shiver down Jaina’s spine. ”Or you could be smart and ask me for the truth.”

 

The illusion broke and Jaina stood alone in the library. Her hair was wet, clinging to her face, and she brushed it out of the way. It felt like awakening from a nightmare. Had it been real? Had Azshara been there? On the table, the books lay intact, save for a few water-damaged pages.

 

Jaina struggled to slow her racing heartbeat, gasping for air. She felt… She felt angry. She felt _rage_ thrumming in her veins. Rage… Rage she could use. Rage she could do something with. It helped narrow her focus. It helped paint a target.

 

How dare Azshara threaten Kul Tiras? How. Dare. _She._

 

* * *

 

 

The wind had died down to nothing. Mist rose up from the sea and wrapped itself around the ship, thicker and thicker, seeping into the cabins. On the deck, the crew moved carefully and silently, watching for each stray movement in the water. Everyone was on high alert.

 

Jaina sat in the captain’s cabin, keeping herself busy reading. Jaina had formulated a plan, carefully putting it into motion. It had taken some wrangling to get Tandred to lend her a ship, and even more wrangling to get a crew willing to follow her. She succeeded though. If nothing else, people in power were willing to part with a little bit of resources to get her out of their sight. Infamy came with some benefits.

 

Azshara had made a move against her. She wanted to strike back. _Needed to._ She needed to do something. Anything. Correcting the horrors that had befallen Kul Tiras seemed… Fitting. No matter how much her mother said _I have forgiven you_ it did not register to Jaina. It was just words. She needed to prove it more. 

 

Tidesage Lilyana, the resident ship sage, stirred in her cot, her hands clutching at the sides of the hammock’s heavy canvas cloth. They had remained cordially quiet with each other. Jaina had garnered no love from the tidesages in Stormsong Valley where she had annihilated anyone corrupted, and then even less when she had left water damage on sacred texts. 

 

Lilyana cried out, still dreaming, but the cry cut off abruptly and sounds of choking replaced it.

 

”Lilyana?” When she didn’t respond, Jaina rose from the desk, concerned. The tidesage sister convulsed in the cot, whimpering. Jaina put a hand on Lilyana’s shoulder, shaking her carefully.

 

Lilyana shot upright, her eyes wide open and bloodshot, tears streaming from her eyes like water. 

 

Jaina quickly looked away, offering her some privacy as she wiped at her face. ”Are you well?”

 

”Just… Just a bad dream. A terrible one.” Lilyana exhaled. 

 

”About what?” Jaina couldn’t help but inquire. 

 

”The sea used to be reassuring when it whispered to me. Now, it… It scratches.” She shook her head. ”Forget it. It was just a nightmare.”

 

Unsure of what to do, offer comfort or not, Jaina reluctantly returned to the desk, clearing her throat to try and change the subject. ”I saw some volumes with your name on them in the library.”

 

Lilyana jumped on the opportunity. ”Ah. The ones that were destroyed?”

 

”Yes. I was wondering–”

 

”What I wrote about? Useless things. Old things.”

 

”Please. I would like to hear about them.”

 

Lilyana hesitated. ”It’s not exactly stellar academic quality. At least, that is what I was told.”

 

”Still.”

 

”Fine.” Lilyana climbed out of the cot, massaging her neck. ”There are many old, ancient rituals that we repeat without knowing why. I did not – still don’t – like not knowing why I perform something if the purpose is unclear. I wanted clarity. So I pursued many old, forgotten things and upset many people in the process.” She smirked. ”Lord Stormsong found my inquisitiveness disruptive. So I was out on a long sailing mission when the order turned bad.”

 

”That saved you.”

 

”I know. But what good has it done? Everyone I worked with are dead or lost. And now I am on this mission.”

 

”No one will die here.”

 

”You promise big things, lady Proudmoore. Your track record says otherwise.”

 

”I try to atone for my crimes.” Jaina shrugged. She did not want to delve into that now. ”So what did you find out?”

 

”I dug into old rituals. Particularly one we rarely perform – only when the sea rejects all other prayers and offerings.” She fell quiet, chewing on the inside of her cheek. ”I got a bit obsessed. I interviewed some sources perhaps best left untouched.”

 

”What sources?”

 

”Twilight cultists. Or well, former. Not a lot of them around. Even fewer willing to talk, and even then so few of them can make sense of what they learned. A few shadow priests.”

 

Jaina furrowed her brow. ”What do those have to do with the sea?”

 

”Nothing with the waters, of course. More with what lays beneath.” She sighed. ”Tidesages have always known the price of yielding to some whispers. We have swept it under the rug. Pretended it was nothing. That it connected to nothing. But some things carry meaning. I was never surprised at _what_ we became, just at the sheer numbers and force of it.”

 

The hairs stood up at the back of Jaina’s neck. ”And what of the ritual you mentioned?”

 

”The ritual doesn’t have a name. Not an exact one. One century it was called The Wife of the Seas, and another The Maiden’s Drowning. But the steps remain the same – someone willing and informed ascends the ceremonial path, offer themselves at the tide altar, and…” Lilyana gestured vaguely with her hands. ”They recite a spell. A particular chant. Then the seas take them, but the waters calm down. The storms recede. We can continue to live and flourish, but we never find out what happens to them. None of them return.”

 

”Live sacrifices.”

 

”Yes.”

 

”I wonder what she wants with them,” Jaina mused. 

 

”Tidemother’s ways are mysterious,” Lilyana said, ”and perhaps not as benevolent as we once thought.” She came up to the desk, looking at Jaina’s notes with a tilted head. Without warning, she grabbed a paper off the stack, her knuckles white. ”Where did you get this?” 

 

A sketch of Azshara, vague shaky lines, that Jaina had done over and over in the margins of her papers before she gave in and just drew out all she could pull from memory. The details haunted her.

 

Lilyana held the sketch in hand, her eyes dark. ”I recognize this…” Jaina tried to pull it out of her hands, but she evaded. ”I know _her._ I know what she has done.”

 

”It’s just something I saw in the mists,” Jaina said, yanking it out of Lilyana’s hands and tearing it in the process. 

 

Out on the deck, a bell tolled. The sharp sound cut through them both. A preternatural calm settled over Jaina. It was her time to act. Finally. 

 

”Gather the crew,” Jaina ordered to the sailor that burst in through the door to inform her, his mouth hanging agape at the sight of the furious tidesage. ”It is time.”

 

”What did you see in the mists?” Lilyana demanded, not letting go. 

 

Jaina glared. ”You need to go.”

 

”Tell me!”

 

”Her!” She nodded at the drawing. ”I saw her.”

 

Lilyana closed her mouth, turning her face away as she stepped outside.

 

Within a minute all of them were out on the deck, the sailors all keeping a hand on their weapons. The once calm sea had started moving, an ominous wind howling above them. One sailor had spotted a pair of red eyes in the waters, another a fin cresting the waters. They all thought they were going to fight for their lives.

 

Jaina’s plans never gambled on other’s lives, however.

 

”Stay very still,” she instructed, focusing on each of them even as the furious sea lashed at the ship. It would not take much effort to teleport them all away. She had drawn runes on the deck during the night when they all slept, and she let the magic rush up, quick and bright, and they were all gone back to a safe shore. 

 

With them gone, she could focus at the task at hand. A message needed to be sent back. 

 

The first naga climbed over the railing, and she kneeled down, her naked hands on the wet deck. She could feel the vibrations of their movement. There were so many coming, and all they would find was her, alone. She must seem like easy prey.

 

She waited, sending out small electric currents in the water to feel where they all were. Counting at least twenty – thirty – forty. One for each person onboard. They would have been quick pickings for this swarm of lightning-fast reflexes and predator eyes.

 

”Come get me,” she whispered, locking eyes with the naga who lunged at her with a spear. She encased it in ice, and then unleashed her spells on the others.

 

Water and ice, the constant exchange. She knew how terrifying it felt to have all the water covering you turn to frost, turn to ice, and the cold seeping into your blood. When she was in training, she had almost lost her fingers a couple of times to frostbite. It had burned for weeks afterwards. What she was doing now was brutal in comparison – every humanoid creation upon Azeroth was three-quarters water. Water that she could manipulate.

 

If there were any real gods below, they would hopefully understand.

 

She froze the blood in their veins, the liquid swelling and bursting veins and vessels as it expanded within them. Life after life snuffed out. 

 

Years ago, she would never have done something like this.

 

Years ago, she had been soft. She had been a fool. And mercy was a rare thing in times of war. 

 

The thundering ocean went silent and still. On the deck was just Jaina and the lone surviving naga encased in ice left, her eyes following Jaina warily. She had seen it all. Every death. Witnessing things like that… It alters things. Re-arranges you.

 

”I spared you for a reason. Be smart.” Jaina let the ice drop from her, and the naga reared up on her tail to her full, terrifying height. ”Take this message to your queen: Jaina Proudmoore sends her regards.” 

 

The naga hissed, but slithered off the ship and vanished into the waters. The depth of the ocean should give Jaina some time to prepare.

 

She summoned water elementals to clear the deck of dead bodies while she herself began to draw up the rune wards. The spells she wove around the ship strained her, but she needed to give it her all if she would have even a chance of survival. Even then… Would it be enough?

 

The shift in the waters came sudden, much faster than she had anticipated. The wind picked up out of nowhere, whipping the sea into a vicious frenzy with high waves that hit the ship from its sides, washing over the deck and dragging bodies along with it. 

 

She hurried the last spell as a gigantic tentacle shot up from below next to the ship, hitting the hull hard. Then another, and another. They came so fast, none of them reacting to her spells. Her magic just glanced at them. The creature they belonged to was imbued with magic far beyond hers. 

 

”Fuck,” she whispered. Her plans were being crushed to dust in front of her. 

 

Two of the tentacles wrapped around the ship, boards splintering as if they were mere toothpicks. She tried to keep it all together, hold the vessel in one piece, but the sea and the beast refused to let up. It happened so fast – in one moment, she stood aboard an intact ship, the wards holding. The next, they all shattered with such a force of arcane magic that it threw her overboard and into the waters. 

 

When she hit the surface all the air knocked out of her, and a wave crashed over her and dragged her down. Everything hurt, and the waters were like ice. Worst of all, her grasp of magic reeled from the arcane backfire of so many spells failing at once. It had happened before. She just needed to relax. It would come back. It had to come back. 

 

Two minutes. Jaina could hold her breath for two minutes, at least. She could wait that long for the magic to return to her. Any longer…

 

The ship came apart in pieces, a great dark leviathan crushing it in its maw and pulling it into the dark depths. The sheer force of it moving caused the waters to react. She sank and sank, the unnatural currents tugging her down. Trying not to panic got harder and harder.

 

She had been in situations like this before. Even put herself intentionally in them. It was part of being an Admiral’s daughter, of being in tune with her element. Except in all those times, she had known she could just snap her fingers and end it at a moment’s notice through teleporting out. Currently, that was not an option. 

 

A hand wrapped around her ankle and she startled, letting out a stream of bubbles. Ten seconds of air lost, minimum. 

 

”A crude way to send a message.” A voice that sounded like a whisper in her own head. ”But you came.”

 

Jaina kicked at the tentacles holding her down and tried to swim upwards, but they firmly dragged her down. The light from the surface grew dimmer and dimmer. 

 

”Do you even know who you are pitting yourself against, little mage?” Azshara held her from behind, two arms encircling Jaina’s waist, two others reaching up to hold her hands still in a hard vice-like grip, the thumbs pressing down on the inside of her wrists and blocking the only shreds of magic left in Jaina. ”You are in the dark. Unknowing.”

 

Azshara began swimming downwards with a speed that made Jaina’s blood boil and head thrum with a killing ache, and she released a scream into the void as the air was pressed out of her lungs. 

 

”I forget,” Azshara laughed into her ear, still holding her tight, ”you land-walkers are so fragile. Your bodies give in so quick to the deep.” A spell wrapped itself around Jaina, relieving the worst of the pressure and she could breathe again – in an unnatural way, the air wet and salty in her lungs. 

 

I hoped it would not work,” Jaina responded, still trying to adjust the strange spell that held her, testing it. It allowed her to breathe, but the air felt cold and wet. It allowed her to speak, but her voice felt like stones in her throat and left it raw and tender. It allowed her to live, at depths far beyond what human bodies could endure – but it was a mercy the queen could take away whenever she pleased. That much Jaina knew. ”So you dragged me down here to have me alone. What now?”

 

Azshara merely laughed. ”You think we are alone?”

 

”I see none but us.”

 

A tremor shuddered through the water, and a cascade of bioluminescence erupted around them, lights flashing in brilliant colors, vague silhouettes of a dozen – no, _hundreds –_ of naga surround them. Their lights illuminated the two of them, and for the first time Jaina saw Azshara in her full glory: the tentacles curling around her face instead of hair, the three red eyes crowning her forehead, the jewels and pearls adorning her body that was part night elf and part… Something monstrous. Long tentacles vanishing into the darkness. Four arms. Gills. Fins. Sharp teeth of a predator.

 

Azshara’s pupils narrowed to thin slits for a moment before widening again. ”Here in the depths, all that lives wish to see, and all seek to remain hidden. You should be more careful, lady Proudmoore. After all, you came here on your own volition.”

 

”You put the idea in my dream, didn’t you?”

 

Azshara blinked, unfazed. ”You think highly of me to assume I can control such things.” She came closer to Jaina, her lips grazing Jaina’s cheekbone. Tentacles wrapped around Jaina’s ankles, sneaking up her legs. ”If it is in your dreams, then it is breaking free even faster,” she whispered to Jaina, a shiver running down Jaina’s spine. 

 

”I am not here to fight you. All I want is to know. Why do you threaten Kul Tiras?”

 

”Do you fear me, Jaina Proudmoore? Do you have nightmares about me?” When Jaina remained tight-lipped, Azshara put her cheek to Jaina’s. ”You should not fear me. You should fear what I am protecting you from.”

 

”You threaten my home. Your creatures rip at the fabric of my people.” Jaina wrenched one of her hands free of Azshara’s grip, and to her surprise the queen did not reach for it again. Jaina grabbed Azshara’s chin, forcing the queen to meet her eyes. ”And you claim to protect us. From what?”

 

”Knowledge can undo a man. It can ruin you.” Azshara stroked the back of her hand against Jaina’s cheek. ”You are young and beautiful. You should return to the surface. Wage your wars on other land-walkers. The sea will claim your bones when you die. And you will be none the wiser.”

 

”I have already been ruined,” Jaina said, steel in her voice. She refused to let go of Azshara’s chin, bringing the queen’s face so close their nose-tips touched. ”I need to know. I need you to stop haunting my dreams.” 

 

Azshara smiled, soft, but her eyes were narrowed. ”There are many dead things on the bottom of the sea. Bones of ancients litter the depths. Bones rain down from above. You want to hear the true whispers of the deep? You want to see the sunken city with your own eyes?”

 

”Yes.” Jaina did not hesitate. Not now. She felt how close she was to the truth. To back down now would be failure. It’d be true treason to her nation.

 

Azshara’s fingers trailed up Jaina’s throat, grazing her lips. ”I require a tithe. What do you offer?”

 

”What do you want?”

 

Azshara tapped her ring finger against Jaina’s lips. ”A taste.”

 

Jaina did not know how to react. She stuttered, stumbling over a reply. A taste? ”A… A kiss?”

 

Azshara laughed softly. ”Yes. Make me feel like you love me. Like you could worship me.”

 

Jaina had no idea how to do that. But she had to try.

 

Her hands released, she cupped Azshara’s face, pressing her lips to Azshara’s. She thought if she kissed her like the air was leaving her lungs, like Azshara was the only one who could save her, the one who held her life in her hands, then… Maybe it could work. Maybe it would be enough.

 

Azshara responded to the kiss, drawing Jaina in, deepening the kiss. Jaina parted her lips and their tongues met, soft and trembling. She tasted of the sea. More than salt water, more than sand, she tasted as if she was the sea. It undid something in Jaina, and she clung on to Azshara’s shoulders, wanting more, wanting to stay in the kiss. Wanting Azshara to breathe air into her lungs. To save her. 

 

And then Azshara ended it, and Jaina came back to senses, pulling away.

 

”I accept your offering,” Azshara said, her lips swollen from the kiss. She held out a hand. ”Come. This will hurt a little.”

 

Taking the hand, Jaina felt an overpowering surge of magic course through her. It felt like her blood was boiling, her skin wrenching itself inside out, and she screamed, bubbles streaming around her face. Her insides _moved_. She dug her nails into Azshara’s wrist, wanting to plead with her to stop, _please, just stop_ –

 

And then it did. 

 

Azshara was already descending, dragging Jaina down along with her through the twilight waters. The light of the sun faded, and a darkness she had never known before replaced it. But it did not hurt her. The pressure molded her body, but it did not break it.

 

”What have you done to me?” Jaina asked.

 

”Transformed you to survive.”

 

Looking back over her shoulder at the surface fading behind them, Jaina saw her legs that were not legs anymore. A tail. Covered in scales. Long fins streaming out. 

 

She closed her eyes, struggling to take it in.

 

”There is a city in which it sleeps,” Azshara whispered, and Jaina focused on what lay ahead. In the waters around them, many strange creatures passed by, terrifying things with hundreds of sharp teeth and strange shapes, glimmering in the dark. ”A city of nightmares. Perhaps you have noticed it above? Nobody has peaceful dreams anymore. Least of all us, here in the ocean.”

 

A glimmering line on the horizon. Could she call it that? The endless darkness spread out in front of them, but Azshara knew exactly where to take her.

 

”In Ny’alotha, it waits for us all. Forgotten and lost.”

 

”What is it…” Jaina felt water rush out through a hole in her neck and clapped a hand over it. Slits. No, gills. She had gills. What had she become?

 

”It called itself a god when it came to me. What kind of god is chained to the ocean floor, writhing, trying to break free?” Azshara held on to Jaina tighter. ”What kind of god comes to a dying queen and begs for help? A god of nothing.”

 

The light grew brighter. A strange light, like… A sun that had sunk underneath the ocean. Red like blood. Its light touched the spires and towers of a blackened city, the buildings reaching up towards them. A city larger than Dalaran, than Boralus, than Stormwind. Its size dwarfed anything Jaina had seen on land. 

 

”Behold. Ny’alotha.”

 

”It’s massive,” Jaina gasped. It stretched on as far as she could see. And all of it, empty and dead. No, not dead. Something moved within it. Something stirred. ”What is this?”

 

”A city, and a prison. But the seals are weakening. Most have broken. Soon it will be free.”

 

A cold shiver ran down Jaina’s spine. She felt as if she was being watched. ”And you? Do you want it free?”

 

”I do not bow to gods,” Azshara replied. ”But it does not bow to me. For ten thousand years, we have warred. And now, I find myself losing.”

 

A black smoke-like tendril loosened itself from the city’s skyline and lashed out towards them, hitting a barrier Azshara conjured up and disintegrating to dust on contact. ”Now you see. And now it has seen you.”

 

Jaina opened her mouth to ask what Azshara meant, but then she felt it. A cold pain at the back of her neck, creeping up her skull. A whisper thundering in her head. _Do not trust her. She lies. She will let you drown here with me._

 

It hurt to hear. The taste of blood filled Jaina’s mouth and she tore free from Azshara’s grip, thrashing in the water as she tried to kick herself to the surface. She couldn’t – all she had was a tail, and her muscles couldn’t make it do that fluid movement, and she felt water in her lungs– 

 

Azshara gripped her hands. ”Do you wish to live?” When Jaina could not answer, weighed down by pain, Azshara yanked her closer. ”Do you wish to live? Yes or no?”

 

Jaina nodded her head, too scared to try and breathe, feeling like her sea-form was giving up on her.

 

”Then go,” Azshara whispered, pressing a kiss to Jaina, breathing magic into her. ”And come back to me when you are ready.” 

 

It was just enough magic to save her.

 

Jaina teleported upwards in spurts, the closer she got to the light above, the more magic returned to her. When she broke the surface, she drew in a deep breath and it felt almost wrong, before she teleported to the same beach she had sent the crew of the now-destroyed ship to. 

 

She landed on her hands and knees – oh bless the light, she had legs again – and coughed, gasping for air. The only one who waded out to her was sister Lilyana, who dragged her up on land and laid her down there.

 

”What did you do?” Lilyana asked, accusing. ”The Tidemother… She has gone quiet.”

 

”I don’t know,” Jaina admitted, tugging at her sleeves to cover her hands where shimmering scales still lingered, the spell Azshara cast on her not having worn off completely yet. 

 

”That drawing… Your notes… Have we worshipped a false god all this time?” A note of despair crept into Lilyana’s voice.

 

Jaina remained quiet, staring up at the bright sun. She still felt the chill of the deep waters in her bones, still felt the touch of the queen on her skin. She wanted to be dry. She wanted to forget. She wanted to sleep a dreamless sleep.

 

She knew it would all be in vain. She would not be able to forget. She would only dream nightmares. And she would be unable to stop thinking about Azshara.


	3. Chapter 3

 

_You should not fear me. You should fear what I am protecting you from._

 

Azshara’s words echoed in Jaina. She lifted her hand out of the bath water, turning it over. Human hand palm. Fish scales on the back. 

 

Her skin itched unless she soaked in water, the scales from Azshara’s spell lingering on her body. She hid them from everyone else, hid her webbed toes and the ridge where one of the fins had been. Her body still remembered the feeling of swimming like she had, alongside Azshara. Just like she had dreamt of as a child, reading tales of mermaids and selkies, hoping to one day find a way to be one.

 

Just not like this.

 

She had soaked all day in preparation for the ball, levitating books above just out of reach of the water, flipping back and forth between them. History books on Queen Azshara, as she had been back before the Sundering. Ten thousand years. What does ten thousand years do to someone? 

 

In the tidesage volumes she had taken from the monasteries – over loud protests – she kept looking for something. All she found was a sense of vague dread. They were all writing around something, not mentioning it directly in the text but it ghosted across the pages, between the sentences. A suggestion of something else. Some dark knowledge. Some terrible deal. It was maddening, to be so close and yet not be able to pinpoint the acute problem.

 

Tidesage Lilyana’s book, thin and with an uncracked spine, had been the most giving. She read and re-read the tales of the Wife of the Seas. Of the sacrifices. It lead her nowhere, but it felt reassuring to unfold. There were rituals in place to tie the sea. There were promises that could be honored.

 

She ran her hands down the sides of her legs. The scales were disappearing, slowly. Good. It meant Azshara’s spell was waning. 

 

* * *

 

 

Arriving in Stormwind with Katherine and Tandred felt odd. They had done a trip like this once, long ago, when she was a child and Kul Tiras needed to re-negotiate a trade deal. Now they were back, except this time Kul Tiras sat in the better position. Everyone who mattered in the Alliance had been invited to the blood moon ball, and Anduin had extended the same grace to Jaina Proudmoore’s entire family. They wanted Kul Tiras back, of course. Jaina may have kept away from them for years, but she knew a motive when she saw one. 

 

The city had changed so much since Katherine last saw it, and she commented about the differences as they walked through the streets from the Mage District to the castle under guard escort. 

 

”Have you been happy here?” Katherine interrupted herself, turning to Jaina. ”With the Alliance?”

 

”I had many good years,” Jaina said, doing her best to deflect.

 

”And some not so good. We all suffered from Theramore.”

 

”Mom…”

 

”One day, we need to talk about your father.”

 

Jaina bit her tongue. She did not want to have this discussion now. ”It is nice to return to Stormwind,” she said, steering away from the heavy topic. ”What do you think, Tandred?”

 

Tandred was pre-occupied with winking at some sailors on furlough. A hollowness still lingered in Tandred’s eyes from his time in the mists, but he smiled a lot and talked even more. ”I’m sure Stormwind will accept the deal,” he said, distracted. ”What do they have to lose?”

 

”Not what we were discussing,” Jaina said.

 

Katherine gave her son a look. ”There is a time and a place, Tandred. We are dignitaries. Behave like one.”

 

Tandred made a grimace for Jaina’s eyes only. ”Now that you’re back, perhaps mom and her advisors will stop talking about heirs,” Tandred whispered to Jaina. ”They kept talking about the Proudmoore legacy, about maintaining the strong line of our house.”

 

”I remember,” Jaina said. 

 

”And it is a valid concern,” Katherine said, clearly having overheard their exchange. ”But not one I am interested to press currently.” She looked over her shoulder at her children. ”Try and enjoy the ball, but do not make any promises to the Alliance. Are we clear?”

 

”Crystal,” Tandred said.

 

”Yes, mother,” Jaina said. 

 

”Good.”

 

At the entrance of the ballroom, Anduin Wrynn waited to greet all guests, taking his time with each one. When it came to the Proudmoores, his face lit up.

 

”Anduin, this is–” Jaina began, but before she could finish Anduin had embraced her. 

 

”Aunty, it is good to see you again,” Anduin said. He had grown so much, almost half a head taller than Jaina was. 

 

She gave him a gentle hug back. ”I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you,” she whispered. 

 

”It’s fine.” He let go, all bright smile and hopes as he welcomed Tandred and Katherine before moving on to the next arrivals.

 

They moved into the grand hall together, Katherine eyeing the decorations. ”A bit lavish, isn’t it?” 

 

Jaina shrugged. ”It is standard.”

 

”This money could be put to better use among the citizens.”

 

”You sound just like you did twenty years ago, Katherine.” Genn Greymane appeared behind them, looking his usual grim self before he broke out into a grin, pulling Katherine in for a warm hug. ”It’s been so long!”

 

”Yes,” Katherine said coolly, taking a step back from Genn. ”You refused to let our sailors leave your harbor when you isolated the country. How have they fared?”

 

”Ah,” Genn said, gritting his teeth in a feigned smile. ”That is a long story. If you would?” He offered his arm and led her towards the side of the hall. ”Now, you have to understand that the civil war took its toll...” 

 

Tandred veered off in the other direction, having his eyes set on some bodyguards that were in the corner, comparing stories. ”Behave!” Jaina called after her brother before he too was swallowed by the crowds. 

 

Jaina was not fond of parties. The constant low hum of background noise distracted her too much and it exhausted her trying to have conversations above the din. She had promised her mother to stay the entire night though, and she would live up to that. Hopefully. 

 

She caught sight of someone she wanted to speak to, especially after reading her writing on Azshara. Tyrande Whisperwind stood at the edge of the grand hall, clad in full battle armor and glaring out at the room. 

 

”Lady Jaina,” she greeted crisply, nodding her head. ”Have you come to rejoin the Alliance?”

 

”Lady Tyrande,” Jaina gave a slight bow. ”That is a complicated matter. Perhaps, is the best answer I can give. In my heart, I am always with it.”

 

Tyrande scoffed. ”I am not here to eat and mingle with diplomats who want to talk rather than act. I am here for true allies. The Horde lays siege to Darkshore as we speak, and my people can barely hold their armies off. Wrynn has refused to help me.” 

 

Jaina and Tyrande both looked at Anduin Wrynn at the opposite end of the hall. She felt for him. Her nephew tried, but Varian’s death had left a power vacuum in the Alliance. No teenager should have to shoulder such a prospect. ”What about you, Proudmoore?”

 

”I am pursuing my own goals.” She licked her lips, unsure of how to continue. Tyrande had always been intimidating in her own way – age, posture, experience all played a part – but even more so now, with her darkened eyes and full battle regalia. ”I hope your dreams lately have been pleasant.”

 

”They have not.” Tyrande narrowed her eyes. ”Spit out what you want. I do not care for small talk.”

 

”Very well. You knew queen Azshara in life. What was she like?”

 

Tyrande tensed up. ”Go read history books. There are many accounts.”

 

”But only one of them written by you. And I cannot find the original source of it, only copies of copies.”

 

”So you are here for academic research.”

 

”In a manner of speaking. You knew Azshara better than most.”

 

Tyrande laughed outright. ”No one _knew_ her. She kept herself first, and only revealed parts of herself to others. She ruined the world. That is all you need to know.” Tyrande made to leave but Jaina grabbed her arm.

 

”I am asking for any information at all.” She let go of Tyrande, withering under her intense gaze. ”Please.”

 

”You come to me, ask me to open up old wounds, and for what? What do I gain?” 

 

War made bartering a skill even among the own ranks. ”How about a trade to make it worthwhile? I will dispatch an elite squadron of mages to your cause, in return for information.” She was somewhat breaking her mother’s command, but she felt it was for a good cause. 

 

”Two.”

 

”One, and two fully loaded frigates.”

 

Tyrande considered the offer, then nodded. ”I accept those terms.”

 

The music swelled, hitting a crescendo before the dancing couples applauded and split into new configurations. Tyrande motioned for Jaina to follow, and they ascended the staircase, withdrawing to an empty vestibule far from the noises of the ballroom. Two wardens peeled out of the shadows and followed after them, standing to block the path for anyone to follow. 

 

Tyrande leaned against the wall, relaxing her shoulders a little. ”I assigned a close friend to keep track of her movements once we heard the rumors. She tracked naga, questioned them, killed them.” Tyrande looked up at the ceiling. ”Elune forgive her, but we all chose our methods. Did you know that there were no naga before she tore the world asunder?”

 

”I had a suspicion.”

 

”For the longest time, I tried to reason like a fool. Maybe the surge of her magic powers fused some of her court together with the sea creatures. Perhaps that was her final gesture of love to them. I _hoped_ so desperately that it was. The mere thought that she, of all people lost in that event, had survived and thrived… It disgusts me even now.”

 

”You really dislike her.”

 

Tyrande set her jaw. ”You are digging into dead wounds, Proudmoore. Perhaps you should pursue the issues of the living.”

 

Jaina leaned against the wall next to Tyrande, looking up at her and keeping her voice low. ”I am. In Kul Tiras, our tidesages worship and honor the sea. The adept among them hear the whispers of the sea guiding them, a voice that does not lead them astray. They call her the Tidemother.”

 

Though Tyrande tried to hide it, Jaina saw the tiny flinch. ”There are many entities in the ocean. Not all of them are her.”

 

”Yes but in my research, I have come across art of her.” A small lie. Nobody but her needed to know the full picture. ”Recent reports from Stormsong valley corroborate my findings.”

 

”So she is out there?” Tyrande closed her eyes. ”Of course she choses now to start causing trouble.”

 

”She has been sinking ships off the coast of Kul Tiras. Almost ruined Stormsong Valley. Decimated our tidesage order. Why is she doing this?”

 

”Perhaps you did not worship her enough,” Tyrande said dryly. ”Perhaps there is no reason, and all she wants is to cause suffering.”

 

”Would that be like her?”

 

Tyrande sighed. ”She acts with cause. Is that what you want to hear?”

 

”She was gone for ten thousand years. Don’t you think her motivations could have changed in that time?”

 

Tyrande glared at Jaina, refusing to answer. Jaina licked her lips. Tyrande’s stubbornness made it difficult to navigate conversation with her sometimes. And in her defense, this was not a particularly fun topic either.

 

Jaina tried a different angle. ”Why would she come back now?”

 

Tyrande shrugged. ”Who knows. She is cruel. She has her plans. She will always look for an angle, and maybe your people offered it to her unknowingly.”

 

”Tyrande. I know you know her.” That tiny movement again, barely perceptible, but Jaina caught the flicker in her stony expression. ”Did you love her?”

 

The question made Tyrande laugh out loud. ”No! Absolutely not! I have had enough of this, Proudmoore.” 

 

Jaina raised her voice. ”She spoke to me. She showed me things as well.”

 

Tyrande’s ear flicked. ”And what was that?”

 

”That there are other forces moving against us.” Jaina tapped her foot against the floor, rolling the words over in her mouth as she thought. ”That whatever war we are working towards is a feint. I don’t think it is coming because either side wants it. There is something else at work.”

 

”Did she tell you that?”

 

”No. That is what I think. What she told me was that she has waged war underseas ever since she was plunged down there.”

 

Tyrande remained skeptical. ”So she reaches out to you to ask, for what?”

 

Jaina inclined her head, trying to keep the small smile down. ”I threatened her because she had been causing havoc in Kul Tiras.”

 

”Of course. Her good intentions and all.”

 

”Whatever her intentions are, maybe they are true?”

 

Tyrande sighed. ”She has a hidden agenda. She always has. Obviously she has seen something in you that can help elevate her, progress towards that goal. Are you happy to play into it? Do you want to be her pawn?”

 

”It’s not like that.”

 

”You can delude yourself all you want, Jaina. But never trust her.” Tyrande shoved herself off the wall. ”I am not discussing this anymore. If she is truly back, then I have preparations to make to protect my people. I suggest you do the same.” Tyrande bowed her head, then left for the garden, trailed by the wardens. 

 

Jaina mulled over Tyrande’s words for a few minutes, but her head buzzed from all the sensory stimulation already, making it impossible to think straight.

 

Rejoining the party, Jaina checked on the food at offer. Hundreds of varied canapés were arranged in painstaking detail, each one of them looking like a finely crafted artwork. She felt guilty at the thought of touching them, much less devouring one. 

 

A glass clinked to her left side, and a scent of the ocean wafted through the air. 

 

”I believe this dance is mine.” A night elf lady beamed down at her, clad in white, her long white hair draped over one shoulder. She wore a mask inlaid with pearls and scales shimmering like oil slicks, but the voice could not be disguised. 

 

”What are you doing here?” Jaina asked Azshara, testing the illusion the queen wore with a powerful revelation incantation, but it did not even cause a ripple in the spell’s integrity.

 

”Did you think I would not notice? That I would not hear about what you were doing?” Azshara tilted her head, cryptic smile still on her lips. ”And all these questions you ask about me…” She clicked her tongue. ”Did no one teach you how rude it is to talk behind my back?”

 

”You’re a queen. I am sure you are used to such court manners.”

 

Azshara held out her hand and Jaina, despite herself, took it. She wanted to know. It was her eternal weakness.

 

Azshara’s smile glimmered under the dimmed lights as she led Jaina out onto the dance floor, aiming for the middle of it.

 

”Did you come alone?”

 

”I could, if I wanted to,” Azshara replied, putting her hand on Jaina’s waist, taking the lead. ”You look exquisite tonight.”

 

Jaina, despite herself, blushed. She hoped it wasn’t noticeable. ”So why are you here?”

 

”I have always been here, at these quaint parties. You have just not seen me.”

 

”That… Is a terrifying concept.”

 

”I have not interfered that much with your boring affairs. I have let you be, as long as you have left me and mine alone. Is it so unfair to want to keep an eye on the state of things?”

 

”You could busy yourself with other things. Like war. Against your old god.”

 

”Ah, but that can be waged without me for a while. Besides, we are in a difficult situation.” She spun Jaina around, teasing her fingertips along Jaina’s hips. ”But I did not come here to talk war. I wanted to enjoy myself.”

 

”Then I hope you have found your entertainment here, listening to the bickering.”

 

Azshara pulled Jaina close, and Jaina became painfully aware of how thin the fabric of Azshara’s dress was. ”I came to see you.” 

 

”I am fine without you.”

 

”You think about it, don’t you? You even dream about it. The city. The whispers. They build and build. I see the dark circles under your eyes.”

 

Jaina had followed her mother’s insistent advice to put ice cubes on her under-eye area to de-puff them. It had not helped much, apparently. 

 

”Tyrande says you keep a hidden agenda from me.”

 

”And Tyrande, of course, keeps one from you, as you keep one from me. I am honest about what matters, lady Proudmoore.” She grew serious. ”Do you want to protect Kul Tiras? Or do you want to watch your island fall?”

 

”What are you offering?”

 

”I can shield them, like I have shielded my people.”

 

”And what is the price?”

 

”You love your people, as I do mine. But love is a contract. A contract is a negotiation. Make me an offer. It is simple: you want something. But you have offered me nothing in return.” Azshara trailed her fingers down along Jaina’s jawline, tilting Jaina’s chin up with her fingertips. ”I control the sea. You should be begging me for mercy.”

 

”I do not beg.”

 

Azshara stroked her thumb over Jaina’s lower lip. ”I have thought of you on your knees in front of me… Can you imagine it?”

 

As Jaina breathed, her tongue tip brushed against Azshara’s finger. She hoped it was just an accident. 

 

Azshara reacted with pushing her thumb into Jaina’s mouth, a move that sent an electric current of want through Jaina’s body. ”No. You are not one to beg, I have seen that. And that is what I want. I do not need another broken soul paying tribute to me.”

 

An imagine rose up in Jaina’s mind, a bright vision of her and Azshara: the two of them, side by side, the sea responding to them – _no_. She shook her head and narrowed her eyes when Azshara laughed.

 

”There. You can see it, after all. Isn’t the thought of us marvelous?”

 

”Stop playing your little games.”

 

”You like it.” Their lips were so close to each other that Jaina could feel Azshara’s breath.

 

”I do,” Jaina admitted, her voice a whisper. 

 

Azshara smiled as she kissed Jaina. At first Jaina froze up, terrified, unsure of what to do. But Azshara cupped her face, her tongue moved between Jaina’s lips, and she did it so well that Jaina softened against her. She hooked her free hand behind Azshara’s neck, pulling her closer to deepen the kiss. It felt as if she was sealing her fate, but she could not stop. She wanted it.

 

No. She needed it. 

 

She wanted to be lost to it.

 

As the music ended, Jaina snapped out of the strange stupor Azshara had induced. ”Excuse me.” She gave a customary polite bow to Azshara out of ingrained habit, and then pushed her way through the dancing couples to get some air. 

 

There were so many things swirling around in her head, all of them impossible to grasp, intense and overwhelming. She was so tired, and she needed fresh air.

 

Out in the enclosed garden, some feral druids slept in the moonlight, cracking an eye open to glance at her before curling up to continue the nap. 

 

She paced, but still the space was too small, too crowded. She needed to be truly alone.

 

_Sorry mother._

 

Jaina snapped her fingers and teleported to Theramore.

 

The one good thing about it was the silence, and the loneliness. Everything else… Hurt.

 

Rainwater had filled the crater, and the place still crackled with wild magic down in the earth. Kalec had said it would likely always carry a tension to it, and that building anything on top of it would be unwise. Jaina never wanted to rebuild anyway. 

 

She dreamt of it, of course, late at night seeing the hands moving the bricks into place, laying out the new roads, ships coming in carrying flags of Stormwind and Kul Tiras and Orgrimmar. Her tower, her old bedroom facing the sea, and the seagulls circling above.

 

She loathed those dreams. 

 

Her skin itched again, and she went down to the shore and plunged her hands into the icy waters. The cold cleared her mind, a little. She had not even noticed the itch before, hidden under all other annoyances of the night. 

 

The light changed in the sky and she looked up, the blood moon beginning. Red seeped in at the edges of the giant disc. She was missing the peak of the festivities, all the praises and prayers to Elune. She felt a sting of guilt, but above all the relief of being alone. 

 

Azshara promised such grand things. Could she trust her? Should she?

 

Trust. Such a double-edged sword. No one in Kul Tiras trusted her, and she yearned for them to at least remember her a little differently by the time she died. To clear her name, at least to her own mother. And she owned her people atonement. If she could protect them, truly keep them from the most imminent harm threatening the shores, then maybe. Maybe it would be worth it. 

 

Theramore would never be again. She always longed to go back. It had been the most at home she had ever felt. Dalaran came close, of course, but it had never been _hers._ Nothing came close to Theramore in her heart – when it had existed, it made her swell with pride and love of watching something she had created begin to take on a life of its own. And then, later, wiped away… It had become a wound unable to heal, tearing through her every day.

 

Somedays, she thought she should ask to be buried there, alongside everyone else who had died there that day, like she should have. Until then, she could only act to honor their memory. She owed them that. To protect their remaining families. To protect their memories. 

 

Azshara wanted to play a game with her. Very well. She could counter. What did she truly have to lose, but herself? 

 

She picked herself up from the sandy beach and looked back at Theramore, saying a silent farewell again. It never hurt any less to leave.

 

Back in Stormwind, she brushed herself down and headed back in to the festivities, scanning the grand ball room for Azshara. When she spotted her, Jaina’s stomach churned.

 

Azshara was back on the dance floor. With Katherine. 

 

The floor was filled up with even more couples than before, the music having turned towards the lovelorn, and Jaina could not find a way through them. She circled at the edge of the room, never losing sight of Azshara who towered above many of the other attendees. 

 

She watched her mother laugh. She watched Azshara dip Katherine. She watched Azshara’s hand resting on her mother’s back.

 

They never stopped talking, their mouths moving, but Jaina could not make out what they were saying. All she could hear was her own thundering heartbeat.

 

Tandred came up to her with a glass of some indistinguishable punch in his hand. ”Mother seems to be having a good time at least,” he said, raising the drink to her. 

 

”How long have they been dancing?” Jaina asked, not taking her eyes off them.

 

Tandred shrugged. ”A while maybe. I have been busy with other people.”

 

Then the music stopped, and the couples began dissolving. Azshara guided Katherine towards them. 

 

”Thank you for such a pleasant dance,” Azshara said, bowing to kiss Katherine’s hand. ”Your daughter never told me she had such a beautiful mother.”

 

Katherine waved her hand dismissively, never having been one for flattery, but still she smiled. 

 

Jaina did not know what to do. She wanted to do a bunch of things, all of them unseemly for the evening’s festivities. When Azshara leaned in to kiss Jaina’s cheek, she conjured a razor-sharp small ice spike into her hand and held it against Azshara’s torso. ”Do not touch my mother,” Jaina said in a voice low enough to only be heard between the two of them.

 

Azshara’s lips parted in a gasp as she felt the pressure at her ribcage. Jaina flexed her fingers, narrowing the conjured icicle, the tip of it slicing through the thin satin dress clinging to Azshara’s body. Part of her was startled she had managed to cause even that shred of of damage.

 

Part of her was plain terrified.

 

Azshara moved closer, not even wincing as the icicle pushed into her. Jaina felt blood trickle onto her hand, warm and sticky. The elf bent her head down, her lips brushing Jaina’s earlobe. ”You would not be able to kill me.” Azshara’s hot breath against Jaina’s skin made the mage bite the inside of her cheek.

 

”It is not for that. I want to keep you focused.” She hoped her voice wasn’t breaking. ”Keep your eyes on me.”

 

”I always am.” Azshara kissed Jaina’s other cheek, their lips brushing as her head moved, and then she took a step back. ”It was pleasant to see you again. Keep my offer in mind?”

 

Jaina let the icicle melt, hidden in her palm. ”I will.” Azshara stepped back, and four night elves appeared out of the crowd to surround her. In the blink of an eye, she was gone, and her blood was dripping from Jaina’s hand, staining her dress. 

 

Distantly, she heard her mother fuss over the bloodied hand, felt the concerned touch, but all she could think about was how much she craved the water. How much she needed to dive into the icy depths once more.


	4. Chapter 4

> _ Let us not be lost in the darkness _
> 
> _ Let us not be forgotten by the earth _
> 
> _ Guide us through the darkest storms _
> 
> _ So that we may once more see the moon upon your waves _

– A prayer to the Tidemother

* * *

 

 

_Drown._

 

Jaina blinked slowly, straddling a fine balance between conscious and feverish. A heat pounded in her head even as she tried to hide her cold shivers. She had lost count of her last restful night – one before the Stormwind ball, presumably. Ever since then she had been haunted day and night by dark visions and whispers at the back of her head. Of tides rising up and consuming Kul Tiras, consuming the world.

 

She could feel such a mirage tugging at her consciousness even as Katherine discussed spring budget with the advisors: water pouring into the room, filling it, drowning everyone inside. If she closed her eyes, she heard the screams of Boralus as everyone in it were swallowed by icy-cold waves. 

 

She knew it was a mirage. She also knew her teeth would chatter and her lungs gasp for air as if it was real if she tried talking, and kept quiet, flipping through papers she could not take in. Her mother would be disappointed, again, that she seemingly took no interest in the matters of state. 

 

Jaina tried. She did. But something else was tearing at her.

 

”I think that’s all, unless you have anything to add?” Katherine slammed the accounting book shut and glared at Jaina, and Jaina set her jaw and shook her head. Katherine sighed and dismissed the council.

 

Everyone got up and trickled out, and Jaina slumped back in her chair with closed eyes. The illusion was abating. Little by little, the horror faded. For an hour, maybe two, she would be at peace. She felt ready to collapse into bed, so drained from not having had any connected sleep.

 

”Do you want to be here?” Katherine asked, pushing her chair out. ”Do you want to be a Proudmoore?”

 

”It’s not a choice, mother,” Jaina replied. 

 

”It is a choice to live up to the name.” Katherine walked around the table, coming to a halt at Jaina’s side. 

 

Jaina braced herself for the harsh words she rightfully deserved. She had slipped into a spiral of dealing with something – _someone –_ that did not matter to Kul Tiras, not truly. Not in the ways that people saw. When her mother instead put a cool palm on her burning cheek, she jumped in her seat. 

 

”I worry about you.” Katherine’s expression was so soft that it pained Jaina to see. ”You never were this distant back then. I barely recognize you.”

 

”I grew up,” Jaina said, harsher than she intended. ”You missed the last two decades of my life, you–”

 

”I don’t know you as you are now, no. I don’t.” Katherine removed her hand. ”Maybe one day I will. I would like that a lot. A mother never stops missing her daughter, you know.”

 

They were both silent for a while, before Katherine gathered her things and left as well. 

 

_Drown them. Or drown with them._

 

Jaina pinched the bridge of her nose, practicing the calm breathing techniques Aegwynn had taught her. She felt like she was unravelling. She needed to pull herself together. She needed… She needed air.

 

Teleporting out of the keep without a thought as to where, just _out_ – a dangerous enough practice to earn her a scolding from Aegwynn – she found herself at Stormsong Monastery. The tidesages still did not know what to do with the archives, or the befouled water and relics left behind by the corruption that had eaten away at the order. One of the benefits, at least, was that the monastery island remained almost abandoned. A few sages remained, none of them daring enough to interrupt her as she marched through the arches. They had lost all power they once had, stripped away and forced to atone. 

 

She pitied them – no, she felt for them. She saw herself doing the same motions as they did, hoping one day, it would be enough. That true forgiveness and acceptance was possible. 

 

Deep in the library, she traced the spines of books, pulling some out at random and flipping through. She did not know what she was looking for, but a tug in her belly told her she was in the right place. Her hands were so clammy she left wet fingerprints on the pages, and the lines blurred as she tried to read them. 

 

_Are you feeling it yet? The water is pulling out. The tidal wave is building._

 

Jaina blinked, the shimmer of a mirage dissipating before it had time to form and replaced by a familiar sage. ”Lady Proudmoore,” Brother Pike bowed his head. ”Sister Lilyana told me of your research.”

 

She attempted a smile but faltered. Back in her younger years, during those fledgling times trying to train as a tidesage, she had been under Pike’s instruction. He had been kind then. And she had been lovable then, too. ”I see. I hardly thought it note-worthy.”

 

”She felt it was relevant to the Order’s interests. The tidesage order may be in shambles, but the sea pulls at us nonetheless. What the tide brings to us, we must tend to.”

 

Jaina blinked slowly, the cogs in her head grinding to a halt. ”What do you want?” 

 

He looked over the books she had in her arms. ”What are you truly looking for?”

 

Jaina licked her lips, unsure of how much of her guard to let down. ”Lilyana mentioned a ritual. Wife of the Seas.”

 

Pike paused to look at her, truly look, and she became painfully aware of how the cold sweat made her clothes feel tight and uncomfortable. ”If you want to pursue that line of research, I fear you are running short on time.”

 

”I-”

 

Pike took her by the shoulder and guided her to a distant wall where a mirror hung. It took her a few moments before she recognized herself. The shadows under her eyes had grown, her eyes were watery and bloodshot, and her skin shone from the fever sweats. 

 

”There is an illness that runs as threat within the Order,” Pike said, ”long before what happened in Stormsong Valley. The whispers that want only suffering were there long before, but we could turn away from them. But the look on you. The way your irises dilate. The way you move. You are falling.”

 

”Give me everything you have on the ritual.”

 

”It is a dangerous path to embark upon.”

 

”It is the only path I have left.”

 

Pike studied her face in the mirror. ”I hope the depths will give you the answer you seek. Come. I will help you.”

 

A hope sparked in her chest, brief and faint, before the whisper at the back of her skull dragged her back down again.

 

_Drowning, little Proudmoore. You are drowning._

 

* * *

 

 

The sun-warmed sands of Stormsong’s beaches shifted under Jaina’s feet as she walked across the paths the tidesages of old had treaded when they first found Kul Tiras. A pristine island. Once. 

 

At least the roar of the sea kept the whispers at bay.

 

To the north, storm clouds hung over the Shrine. A lingering memory of the nightmare that had claimed the land. It seemed the line between waking and dreaming bled into each other more and more.

 

She followed the instructions of the ritual, shoving her staff deep in the sand and shedding her robe, as well as kicking off her boots. _To reach the sea, you have to surrender something of yourself._ She had let go of so much already. She fastened a cloak over her shoulders, wearing nothing but a thin cotton shirt and her black pants underneath. 

 

She washed her hands in the sea, trying to scrub as much of black dirt and ash off it as possible. Dark crescents of dirt remained under her nails nonetheless. With hands still wet, she reached into the pocket of her robes and fumbled with the chain before closing the clasp around her neck.

 

The anchor pendant felt unnaturally cold against her chest. As if it hated being worn by her. Or maybe she was projecting. She washed her hands again, and then set her eyes on the road ahead.

 

It began raining as she started her ascension of the path. Lightly at first, just moisture sticking to her clothes, but by the time she reached the top it was coming down in sheets. 

 

In her youth, she had been trained in how to walk the path, but fate had taken her to Dalaran before she could be blessed. It felt dizzying, sometimes, thinking of the alternative threads of history she had not pursued. She could have been a tidesage. Maybe it would have made things easier.

 

Wind whipped at her cloak, tearing the hood off her head. She unfastened it and the wind gripped it, dragging it away. She watched it detachedly, feeling distant even from her own body. The long night in Theramore, digging through graves had knocked something loose in her. She floated, aside herself. If she gave in to any emotion now, she feared what might happen to her. All she had to do was focus on the ritual. Give herself over.

 

The ornate ceremonial pool at the summit was shallow, barely reaching over her ankles. She fingered the pendant, the sharp edge of the stock cutting her skin. Wrapping her hand around it, she closed it into a fist.

 

It sliced open her palm, and blood welled up. She squeezed her hand and red drops trickled down into the pool, the sanctified water reacting to the offer she had made. Stones at the bottom lit up, the surface rippling and shifting in unnatural ways. 

 

_If the sea answers you, you have been accepted. This is the final test. Endure, and come back._

 

”I bind myself to the tides,” Jaina spoke. She hoped her voice didn’t waver. She could not hear herself over the thundering ocean below. ”I bind myself to your will. I surrender to your embrace, to implore you for mercy.” She recited the words Pike had taught her.

 

A whirlpool spun up in the center of the pool. An invitation. The sea had answered her, it would seem.

 

Except she did not want to surrender. It had never been her true plan. She planted her feet into a wide stance and opened her hands, feeling a surge of power rising like electricity between her fingertips.

 

”I call upon old magics that run deep through the land and sea of Kul Tiras. I call upon the dead, the dying, to hear me: lend me your strength. I seek only to protect.”

 

She drew upon the magic, feeling it thrum through her entire body. It obeyed her, but it took so much to do what she wanted: a show of power big enough to pique Azshara’s interest. It felt like Theramore. No, more. She contained more magic, older magic. _Willing_ magic. The land heard her and responded to her. The land gave her strength. 

 

She thrust her hands into the swirling water and began to pull, bracing herself as she felt the millenias of magic strain against her. She just had to succeed at this. A simple thing. A powerful thing.

 

She felt close to breaking when finally the waters relented. She fell down onto her knees as she won, gasping for air. A shadow bent over her.

 

”It has been a long time since the tidesages have spoken these words to me,” a familiar voice whispered in her ear. 

 

Jaina opened her eyes and breathed in slowly, looking up. The clouds broke overhead, sunlight hitting the jewels adorning Azshara’s body, the crown of pearls covering her forehead. Water trickled from her head tentacles, and her red eyes were fixed on the kneeling Jaina. ”You would pervert sacred rituals for your own ends?” Azshara smiled, fangs bared. ”You are filled with surprises, lady Proudmoore.”

 

Jaina turned her hands so that her empty, bleeding palms were facing up, and slumped back on her heels. ”Here I am, fulfilling your desire of seeing me kneel in front of you.”

 

One of Azshara’s hands reached down to grip Jaina’s chin. ”Are you surrendering to me? After such a show of power?” She clicked her tongue. ”I thought higher of you.”

 

Jaina glared. ”There is no surrender. I am here to bargain.”

 

The smile reached Azshara’s eyes. ”Now that, I like to hear.”

 

”Protect me. Shield me.” Jaina’s voice broke, and she blinked furiously, refusing to tear up. ” _Please_.”

 

”It is eating away at you, isn’t it? The whispers. The knowledge. I warned you. The depths of the sea waits for your body to be thrown overboard. Even I can hear the endless hunger calling for you.”

 

”So protect me.” 

 

Azshara pulled Jaina up to stand, and even then Jaina barely reached up to her chest, the way Azshara held herself. Tentacles curled around Jaina’s feet, the suckers tickling her ankles. 

 

”Is this what you want, Jaina Proudmoore?” Azshara bent her head down, her lips a mere inch away from Jaina’s. ”My protection comes with a cost.”

 

Jaina’s tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she met Azshara’s eyes. ”I want this.” To underline her point, she leaned in to kiss Azshara. She did not know if it was the sleepless nights catching up with her, or the heady power of the queen, but she felt her knees go weak as Azshara moaned softly into her mouth. She cupped Azshara’s cheeks and deepened the kiss, tasting salt and sea on Azshara’s tongue. 

 

When Azshara broke the kiss, Jaina held on to her. ”Protect me,” she repeated, her voice deep and husky. 

 

The last thing she saw was Azshara’s eyes – like a sunset on fire – before a pain tore through her body and darkness settled in.

 

Darkness. And silence.

 

Blissful, peaceful _silence._

 

Silence meant freedom. Silence meant she had made it.

 

She opened her eyes and saw the darkened night sky, the moon gone and the distant stars blotted out by swirling clouds.

 

”You survived,” Azshara noted from her left side.

 

”I did.” Jaina pushed herself up, taking in the environment: they were on a rock in a secluded cove, gentle waves lapping at them. 

 

Azshara rested on her elbows at the edge of the rock, the rest of her submerged in the waters. Her hair glowed with bioluminescent light, and she studied Jaina closely. ”You are beautiful when you sleep.”

 

Jaina hoped her blushing was hidden in the dark, but she felt the heat rise up her face. ”I… I needed to know. I needed your protection to think clearly.”

 

Azshara shifted in the water. ”I assume you used _that_ ritual for a specific reason. Its name–”

 

”Is not a coincidence?” Jaina scooted closer to Azshara, dipping her legs into the water on either side of the naga queen. ”I know. I did it with intention. For your protection, I offer myself. You felt the magic I can wield. You know the potential I hold. Take me as your wife. I will be the sword you desire in your war.”

 

Azshara took Jaina’s hand in two of hers, pressing the cut palm against her lips. ”You will be my general. You will be my sword and shield.” She smiled, tugging Jaina down into the water and pinning her against the rock, her mouth teasing along Jaina’s jaw. ”You will be my wife.”

 

”We will be victorious,” Jaina whispered, her hands at Azshara’s waist. She felt a bumpy scar under her fingers, remembering when she stabbed Azshara there. Why had she not hidden it? Healed it with her magic?

 

Azshara closed a hand over Jaina’s, smiling. ”We will be powerful. Unstoppable.”

 

”Yes.” Jaina met Azshara’s eyes, feeling no doubt or second thoughts – just cold, decisive certainty. 

 

”You will be glorious at my side.” Azshara tucked a stray hair behind Jaina’s ear.

 

”I will be _yours_.” Jaina kissed Azshara, sealing her fate.

 


	5. Chapter 5

> _"The young maiden, throwing her cheating fiancée’s ring into the sea, cried out for the sea to swallow her whole. And true to itself, the sea rose, accepting her sacrifice, taking her right then and there. The years passed, and she became a myth, a tragic tale._
> 
> _Seventy years later, the sea came back, bringing with it an old woman. She told many of the wife she had found in the sea, proudly showed off the scales the Tidemother had blessed her with. But, dear readers, the most fascinating tales she held onto until I came to ask her. Of cities built of gold, of wars lost and won that never ripple the surface, and above all – of pleasures we can hardly dream of."_
> 
> – _The Sea & How She Took Me_, an erotic book frequently sold in the Boralus docks
> 
>  

* * *

 

 

”White is a good color on you,” Azshara said, her long fingers running through Jaina’s drying hair, gently parting it into three thick sections. ”Mother of pearl as details. Perhaps a dustier white. Seafoam white.” 

 

They sat in a secluded lagoon, someplace Jaina did not recognize. The crystal clear water lapped lazily at naked her legs. _The first gift_ , as Azshara had said when she dragged Jaina deep under the water, breathing air into her lungs, transforming her body to be attuned to the undersea. _And this is the second_ , Azshara said as she taught Jaina to transform between the forms. How in one focused spell, Jaina could go from her human form to something closer to a mermaid, her skin shimmering with iridescent scales, fins fanning out, breathing through gills instead of her lungs. 

 

It came with its marks, though. Even shifting back, a trail of scales lingered on her legs, running down from the hips to the ankles like a band of jewels. Five scars on each side of her neck, the skin thinner underneath. As Azshara began braiding Jaina’s hair, the queen’s fingers kept grazing against the scars. Intentionally. 

 

Jaina felt – _was –_ marked. Strange as it was, she did not mind it. She leaned into Azshara’s touch, the way Azshara’s fingers ran through her hair soothing. Enchanting almost.

 

”Though white is so done,” Azshara mused aloud. ”Especially for weddings. Perhaps just pearls, covering your body. It would be quite the sight.”

 

Jaina tilted her head back to look up at Azshara. ”Wedding plans already? You move fast.”

 

Azshara smiled down at her, her hands still moving. A ripple of arcane magic shot through Jaina. ”We have little time to waste. Or we could sit around and watch the world collapse in on itself. It is your choice.”

 

Jaina sobered up. ”You really want to throw an actual wedding, with a ceremony and party?”

 

”Of course. You think that I would rob myself of such an occasion? My people yearn to celebrate me. And your people need to be shown–”

 

”Who to fear?”

 

Azshara tugged at Jaina’s hair, causing Jaina to hiss.

 

”Who will lead this war,” Azshara corrected.

 

”The only war they know is against the Horde.”

 

”You will have to make them see the truth then. And believe me. Our wedding can be the beginning of many great revelations.” 

 

Azshara resumed her wedding planning, but Jaina became distracted, feeling the growing sensation of magic being woven from Azshara’s fingers into her hair. She could not quite tell what the spell was, but she felt the whisper of power it breathed down her neck. Ancient. Older than Dalaran, older than Aegwynn, older than anything she could fathom. 

 

She opened her mouth at one point, ready to ask why Azshara was doing it, imbuing her with such power, but then she swallowed and continued to listen to the wedding plans. 

 

”I will raise an island. A part of Nazjatar, brought to the surface, so they may see the splendor my court possesses.”

 

”A show of power. Is it not too much?”

 

Azshara finished off Jaina’s braid, putting it over Jaina’s shoulder as she bent down to kiss Jaina’s bared neck.”It is just enough. Perhaps if they prove worthwhile, I will raise my palace as well.”

 

”How kind, your majesty.” Jaina closed her eyes, tilting her head to one side and baring her neck to Azshara. She held her breath as Azshara traced her lips over the gill scars, kissing each of them before she moved her attention up to Jaina’s jaw. Azshara held on to Jaina’s chin gently, pinning her in place as her lips moved across Jaina’s skin. 

 

Jaina shuddered at the attention, craving it more than she feared it. And just as she parted her lips to let out a small, needy noise, Azshara withdrew. The same thing had happened again and again during the night – Azshara getting Jaina just close enough to want to say _more, please_ and withdrawing before she could even utter the words.

 

”I have something to ask of you.”

 

”Anything.” Jaina blushed at how needy she sounded, cleared her throat and tried again. ”Anything for you.”

 

Azshara conjured up a stack of folded and sealed letters in her hand, resting her chin on Jaina’s shoulder. ”Will you deliver these invitations?”

 

”I am not your errand boy.”

 

”No. You are not. I trust you to persuade these people to come.”

 

With a sigh, Jaina took the letters and flicked through the envelopes, shaking her head. ”Most of these will assume ill intent.”

 

Azshara’s breath skimmed against Jaina’s cheek. ”Then convince them otherwise.”

 

”Half of these assume _I_ bring them ill intent. Adding your name on top of that–”

 

”And again, you will convince them.” Azshara shifted her body, the tentacles sliding into the water in front of Jaina, her face coming into view. Her beautiful, terrifying face. Azshara cupped Jaina’s face, the pad of her thumbs brushing over Jaina’s lips. ”I chose you because you have power. Because your name is sung across oceans. When you are spoken of, when they fear you, you can do many grand things.” She moved close, ghosting her lips over Jaina’s. ”And when people believe in you, they give you power.”

 

And then Azshara moved away.

 

”Cruel,” Jaina whispered. 

 

Azshara only smiled at her. 

 

Jaina returned to eyeing the envelopes, mentally charting a route between the cities and places she would have to go – Stormwind, somehow get into Undercity without dying, and Orgrimmar as well, and – she blanched when she came across the final envelope. ”You cannot be serious,” she said, waving it in front of Azshara.

 

”I am.”

 

”She will kill me. And then she will want to kill you personally.”

 

Azshara smirked. ”I’d like to see her try.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jaina dodged behind a pillar in the Temple of the Moon in Darnassus, the normally peaceful sanctity in uproar as Tyrande Whisperwind did not take the letter from Azshara kindly. Jaina had known this was a risk, but she had not been ready for, well, _this._ She teleported from behind one pillar to another, leaving a mirror image behind in the hopes of throwing Tyrande off. It did not. An arrow ripped through her cloak and grazed her arm as she hid behind a statue of Elune. ”Tyrande!” Jaina begged. ”Please! We can talk about this!”

 

Tyrande’s voice crackled with rage. ”Absolutely not! You dare come to my temple, to the holy grounds of Elune, and give me this?” 

 

”She asked me to!” Jaina peeked her head out and pulled back instantly, hearing the arrow before it flew past her. 

 

”Of course she did! She wishes to make a mockery out of me, out of Elune, and above all–” Tyrande let loose another arrow, ”she wishes to tell me that you are her puppet now!”

 

Jaina teleported away, but Tyrande followed with lightning reflexes. She leapt at Jaina and pinned her to the ground with one knee, a long dagger held in her right hand.

 

”Give me one good reason to spare you,” Tyrande demanded, her eyes narrowed and mouth a sneer. ”You know she would not even shed a single tear if I sent your decapitated head back to her. She does not care about you.”

 

Something lurched in Jaina, a strange and foreign thing, rising up from deep within and moving to the surface. She could not name it, or place it, but it was very much _there_ in her, powerful and intent on the threat in front of her. It built and built, drawing from Jaina’s own energy until she found that she could barely even move her tongue. 

 

”Silence will not protect you.” Tyrande raised the dagger, the lines around her mouth softening. ”I do this for my people. Elune forgive me.” 

 

As Tyrande drove the dagger towards Jaina a surge of magic shot out and formed a hair-fine shield to cut off the dagger’s path. 

 

Tyrande let go of the blade, pulling her hand away as if she had been hurt. ”I recognize this…” 

 

The magic shield held on to the weapon, darkness seeping into the blade and taking it apart until it crumbled into dust. Jaina watched in horrid fascination. A manifestation of decay, hidden in an arcane spell woven into her. To protect her. She had never seen a spell like it. Never even read of one.

 

The trail of light and shadows created by the spell shifted focus, making the air around them crackle as it pulled at nearby energy and arced out towards Tyrande.

 

”Pull it back,” Tyrande said through gritted teeth.

 

”How?” Jaina asked, a tinge of panic sneaking into her voice.

 

”It obeys you, because she wants it to keep you safe.” Tyrande pulled her head back as the point of the twisting manifestation came closer to her. ”Hurry.”

 

Against her better knowing but acting on a gut feeling, Jaina stretched her hand out and touched the tendril. An electric shock passed through her, a surge of power opening itself up to her. A power that exceeded what she had ever held in herself, even at Theramore’s destruction – but it was not invading her, tearing her apart from inside out. It enveloped her. It felt… Almost comforting. Almost like something she had longed for.

 

It paused, twitching as if awaiting orders. Her hands trembled as she tugged at it, urging it back into its dormant form, and it obeyed without resistance. 

 

”She warded you.” Tyrande spoke softly. ”I had to see for myself. She warded you.”

 

”Do you know the spell?”

 

Tyrande shook her head. ”I know of it. She warded herself in it, keeping her safe from all attempts at her life by detractors while she ruled. They rarely made it close enough to actually trigger it though. And she warded the ones she loved.”

 

They both sat silent for a moment, Jaina struggling to take in what Tyrande was implying. She was wrong. It was wrong. 

 

Jaina cleared her throat. ”It’s just a marriage.”

 

Tyrande rose to her feet, pacing as she rubbed at her forehead. ”Why are you doing this?”

 

”Because she has shown me something I cannot deny. There’s a darkness at the bottom of the ocean. I have seen it. I have heard it. I know what it does to people. And it is growing stronger.”

 

”How do you know it is not her doing? How can you be sure this is not an elaborate trap to ruin us all?” Tyrande stopped in front of Jaina, arms crossed. ”Do you trust her?” she demanded.

 

Jaina did not hesitate. ”No.”

 

”Then why? Why this?” 

 

”Because having her powers on our side for even just a moment…”

 

”It is not worth it. You will regret this.”

 

Jaina sighed. ”Then that is my burden to bear.” 

 

”She betrayed me and my people.” Tyrande shook her head. ”She will betray you too. It is just a matter of time.”

 

”Maybe. But I have to try.” Jaina reached out to grab Tyrande’s elbow before she turned away. ”Tyrande. If she does turn me into a puppet, if she does turn me against you all – I trust you to strike me down.”

 

Tyrande’s voice did not waver. ”I will. Without hesitation.”

 

At least Jaina could count on that. One person to keep her in check in case she lost herself. In a way, it was almost comforting. 

 

”I am doing this for the Alliance. For my people.”

 

”From where I am standing, it is hard to see it as such.”

 

”Hopefully in time, you can trust me again.”

 

Tyrande remained silent, glaring Jaina down. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Teleportation was a fine and precise art. One needed to see and know the exact pinpoint they wished to travel to. Short-range teleportation was easier in that regard – being able to fix your eyes on the spot you were moving to eased the transition. Long-range… Trickier. She needed to know, and to visualize, and to hold many complex arcane runes at once to manage to spell. In her training in Dalaran, she had seen the consequences of teleports gone wrong. They had laughed when someone had teleported and ended up forgetting their clothes at the origin point, or re-materialized five feet up in the air. 

 

And they had all tried to forget the more severe consequences.

 

She felt something go wrong as the spell finished casting and pulled her through. She ran over the numbers in her head, certain she did not miss anything, and then – a cool acceptance. _If this is how I die, then it is_.

 

Except it wasn’t death. Instead she smelt the sea around her, and blinked at the bright sun and glittering water stretching out for miles around them. 

 

Water splashed at her clothes and a familiar set of eyes blinked at her. ”Ah. You are whole.” 

 

The cogs clicked into place in Jaina’s head. ”You can interfere with my teleportation?” 

 

Azshara rose up, her four hands all checking on Jaina, turning her over. ”I was concerned. I felt the protection activate. But you are unscathed. Good.”

 

Jaina did not give up. ”You could have torn me apart! I was mid-teleport!”

 

Azshara waved one of her hands while another cupped Jaina’s chin. ”I would never endanger your life that carelessly. I just plucked you down at the right time. Look. Not even the hem of your dress is wet.” When she felt satisfied with her inspection of Jaina, she smiled. ”It is simple. You asked for my shield to extend to you, thus I can sense your movements. If you were better at magic, you would sense me too.”

 

Jaina threw her hands up, then quickly brought them down again when she noticed they were shaking. She did not believe Azshara entirely. She could have died, and her body registered it belatedly. ”Does my life even matter to you?”

 

”Of course, my dear.” Azshara cupped Jaina’s face and brought her in for a kiss. ”You are important to me. I would never let you die recklessly.” She pressed another, tender kiss to Jaina’s lips. ”Now, come. Look. I want to show you something.”

 

Azshara tilted her chin upwards, and the sea parted as land rose up from underneath the surface. An island began to take shape in front of them, covered in foreign plants and trees, with a white beach that gleamed in the sunlight. Flowers sprung into bloom as the waters receded, bright and colorful. 

 

Jaina did not know what to say at first, opening and closing her mouth. ”You… You can raise the land.”

 

”I can do many things. This will be where our wedding takes place.”

 

It was beautiful. Grandiose, even. But. ”Isolated.”

 

”My people will want the sea near them. They need it.”

 

”Do you?”

 

”Perhaps.” Azshara tucked a loose lock of hair behind Jaina’s ear. ”Does the island suit you?”

 

”It’s fine.”

 

Azshara sighed. ”I do not want fine. I want you elated. I want you to love it.”

 

Jaina shrugged. ”You don’t have to do all this.”

 

”I need them to know that I, your wife-to-be, is not to be trifled with. I need them to fear me, and follow me.” She exhaled and changed her tone, putting on a pleasant smile again. ”I have thought long and hard about your dress.”

 

Jaina could not hold it in any longer. ”Is this just a game to you?”

 

”Everything is a game. How else is one to enjoy life?”

 

”I am doing this for the sake of my people, of my homeland. Not to wallow in wealth and splendor. I don’t care if I wear a dress, or how my hair is made up.”

 

”You should.” Azshara put her hands on Jaina’s shoulders and held her still in front of the mirror. ”What we show the world is how the world perceives us. We tell them what we want them to know without using words. We want them to feel a sense of awe. Awe makes them pliable. Beauty softens them. Pleasure pulls them in.”

 

”They are more than pawns.”

 

”If they are, then why have they always treated you like one? Your father, Arthas, Thrall, the Kirin Tor…”

”Tyrande says you only give this–” she motioned at herself, feeling the protective spell rise to meet her anger, wrapping itself around her, ”–to people you care about. People you love.”

 

”Is that what she thinks?” Azshara laughed. ”Tyrande remembers things in odd ways. I guess I should not be surprised. Has she told you yet? That she used to beg to kiss me in the moonlight? That she would kneel before me, bury her face in my dress, and promise me eternal love? She was so lovelorn.” 

 

Jaina closed her eyes slowly, processing the information. She felt like she had walked right into court intrigue, the ones she had watched play out in Lordaeron before it fell, amused and intrigued to watch from a distance. It did not feel as good to be caught up in it. 

 

”She wanted me to extend my favor to her. I never did.”

 

Jaina rubbed at her temples. ”I still have invitations to hand out. If you don’t mind.” She teleported away before Azshara could respond. 

 

* * *

 

Jaina had lost track of time, moving between the continents, that when she landed in Deadwind Pass it felt almost surreal. The nightmarish place still retained its strange, otherworldly aura.

 

The leylines running deep underneath the ground still had enough wild, raw magic in them to make Jaina’s skin tingle as she walked through the deserted village. The crumbling, burned shells of buildings still smelled like fresh wood fire, even though it had been decades since the razing. Decades since everything in the pass died, and yet… It could have been yesterday. Or the last hour. Everything felt like it was dying and dying, over and over. 

 

Why Khadgar had chosen to return to Karazhan was beyond her. 

 

A big white wolf perked up as she approached the front gate, bounding up to sniff at her. When it recognized her scent, it headbutted her hand and she gave it a scratch behind its ear. A familiar orc peeled himself off the broken stairs and came to meet her.

 

”Seems Snowsong has missed you,” Thrall said, putting a heavy hand on his wolf. 

 

Jaina ruffled the wolf’s coat. ”I’m surprised she even recognizes me.”

 

”Wolves like her are loyal, and remember better than most.”

 

Jaina studied Thrall’s face, the new lines, the long hair parted into two braids. ”You have changed.”

 

”I had to.”

 

Jaina tried to smile, but it did not take. She had not seen Thrall since Garrosh’s trial. She had barely even seen him then, avoiding eye contact, forming her hands into tight fists and digging crescents into her palms. She still felt… Resentment. Not as overwhelming as then, but it still lingered under the surface. Seeing him again made it ache. But she had sent the message asking him to come. 

 

Part of her regretted it.

 

”What has it been like, turning away from the world?”

 

”Strange.”

 

She wanted to say, you could have done so much more, you should have done better, but then she felt the same way about herself. Her once burning rage at him had dulled into fading embers – it still hung around, a shadow moving behind her, ready to latch onto her words.

 

”Sometimes I miss what we did when we were younger. Things seemed so much more hopeful then. Possible.”

 

Jaina could not stop the hard edge creeping into her voice. ”We were fools to believe in peace.”

 

Thrall nodded, averting his eyes from her. ”I’m beginning to see your point.” He turned and went back up the stairs. ”We’ve been waiting for you. Khadgar is up in the library.”

 

”You didn’t wait with him?”

 

”Karazhan is not a place I like being near,” Thrall admitted as they entered the tower, abuzz with conjured elementals and arcane constructs working on restoring the decay and ruin. ”It’s not natural. So much of what it is, what it is built on, makes the earth scream for mercy.”

 

”You didn’t have to come if it’s that painful.”

 

”I owe you a lot, Jaina. And I have missed you, friend.”

 

”It’s been a long time since I thought of you as friend,” Jaina said, not angry, just. Stating the cold harsh facts.

 

As they stepped into the library, the sheer amount of arcane magic in the air made Jaina’s breath quiver. She tugged at her sleeves, restless, as a raven circled down from upstairs and in the blink of an eye turned into Khadgar.

 

”Ah, Jaina!” Khadgar looked like he was about to hug her and she took a small step to the side, dodging it. 

 

She realized she had not yet forgiven him – nor the Kirin Tor – and it made her feel embarrassed. She instead looked up at the library shelves that seemed to go on forever, hoping neither of them would notice the blush creeping up her neck. ”Interesting new home you have chosen.”

 

”It chose me, if anything.” He gave Thrall a pat on the shoulders and then guided them into a secluded corner of the library, where he had a table set up, overflowing with cups and drinks, as well as sweet and savory offerings.

 

She let Thrall and Khadgar carry the small talk, offering at most a nod or a half-hearted smile. She was tired, and she did not have the energy to play polite. Besides, they had much more interesting stories to tell. Thrall had built a new, distant home for himself. Khadgar had led people to victory through long and dire war campaigns. All she had done for two years was fight demons.

 

And then they had to go to and ruin it by turning their attention to her.

 

”Listen, Jaina… About Dalaran, the Kirin Tor…” Khadgar re-filled her tea cup, his eyes cast down. ”You were a valued member of the Six. You were a valued student.”

 

”You made your choice, and I made mine.”

 

”You are always welcome back.” 

 

Jaina closed her eyes, clenching her fists under the table. ”That. Is not why I’m here.”

 

”I wanted to apologize–”

 

”And I am telling you, I don’t care,” Jaina snapped. A sharp crackle resounded in the room, the darkness of anger rising like bile in her. She should not have come. She made to leave the table, ashamed that the powers she contained would rise to any slight irritation – she was too tired, she was not keeping herself together, not adhering to the serenity Kalec had taught her – but Thrall put his hand over hers. 

 

A flash of white lashed at his hand, leaving a gash across the back of his hand, but he didn’t remove it. He held it still over hers, meeting her eyes without flinching even as blood welled from the cut. ”Is it Theramore, still?” he asked, picture-perfect vision of calmness.

 

”It is always Theramore,” Jaina said, softening. ”Forever.”

 

”I am sorry,” Thrall said, taking Jaina’s hand between his. He made to say something, thought better of it, and instead just squeezed her hand. 

 

Jaina bit back a tear burning at the back of her throat, and smiled as she turned his hand over to inspect the wound. ”You should get that looked at.”

 

”It will heal quickly. It doesn’t matter. Why did you want to see me?”

 

”I…” Jaina pulled her hand out of Thrall’s, settling back into her seat. ”It’s a long story.”

 

And she told it. With omissions. Leaving out names. Leaving out who, exactly, she was marrying. They would find out anyway as soon as they read their invitations that she had stashed in her bag. She was down to the final three to hand out now, and she had put them off intentionally. 

 

”So what I need,” she said, taking a deep breath as she finished off the story, ”is help to craft a vow that will endure. An unbreakable vow. A spell that she cannot destroy.”

 

Khadgar leaned back in his chair, pulling out a book from the shelf behind him. ”You are talking about powerful forces here, Jaina. Binding the land and sea like this together. It goes beyond what a mage can do.”

 

”And the elements have not spoken to me for two years now. Why do you want me?”

 

”When I went to summon her, to submit to her… I called upon ancient magic of the land. The ones the tidesages shy away from. I felt Kul Tiras rise when I called upon it. I felt the land and air and plants move to meet me. I felt the sea stretch out from my veins.”

 

Thrall raised an eyebrow, interest piqued. ”How did it feel? Did you feel the earth churning? Did you feel the grass growing in it? Did you hear the sea singing?”

 

Jaina made a vague hand gesture, sighed, tried again. ”It felt like something I knew once, long ago, remembered me, and came to my aid. It felt like it knew me.”

 

Khadgar rolled out a paper on the table, pinning down the edges with cups and glasses. ”So what will we make of this? Arcane and earth.” A conjured quill began sketching out the ordering of the elements. ”Sea and decay. We know leylines. They nurture both mages and shamans. There’s potential in that. Hmm.” Khadgar waved his hand at the upper shelves nearby and fourteen books flew out and stacked themselves neatly on the table. 

 

Many hours later of scribbles, books and ideas tested and rejected, Khadgar had nodded off at the table and Thrall and Jaina struggled to find anything of use.

 

She closed a book carefully, making sure it made no noise to disturb Khadgar, and leaned over the table. ”I have no idea what I am doing,” she admitted, her voice a whisper. 

 

”It will come to you in time.”

 

One of the many cats jumped up on the chair next to Jaina and began pawing at Snowsong’s snout. The wolf huffed, but let the little one be.

 

”I could have been a shaman,” Jaina mused, playing with the cold tea. ”I had a great affinity for water.”

 

”But you pursued a different path. Why?” Thrall watched her fingers manipulate the water into unnatural shapes that curled around her fingers, rising into whirlpools in the air. ”Did the elements not call to you?”

 

”I never heard them, as such. I felt them, I could feel them tugging at me. I understood the importance of what tidesages did, the gravity of the sea. But I wanted something else.”

 

”Power?”

 

”Understanding. Water is a piece of the puzzle. So is air. So is the arcane. Everything is connected, but we act like it isn’t.” 

 

”Then what have you learnt over the years?”

 

”So much, and yet some days, all that knowledge amounts to nothing.”

 

Thrall surveyed the table, and gently moved all the papers away until only the simple sketch of the elements remained. ”We are over-thinking it. You can bind much in words. Even more in feelings. Imbue them with the power you need. Let yourself be a vessel for power, and then call upon them to seal the union. Let them into you instead of blocking them out.”

 

Jaina nodded, thoughtful. She felt something take shape inside her mind, pieces clicking into place. All she had to do was say yes. Yes to letting go. Yes to the powers that swirled around inside her. Yes to Azshara.

 

She dipped her hand into her satchel and withdrew the two letters addressed to Thrall and Khadgar. ”Here. I expect you to come. Please.”

 

Before he had a chance to open and read the invitation, to know who she was truly getting married to, she teleported out of Karazhan. She could only take so much of his earnestness before it hurt her. 

 

* * *

 

Jaina had pushed the most important and terrifying invitation to last. She knew she had to do it, had to give it over, but she dreaded the reaction. Dreaded the admonishing or disappointed tone. Dreaded that it would make her mother dislike her even more. She had rehearsed several lines, about the _good of us all_ and _it’s politics, mother, and you always wanted me to marry Arthas, so how is this any different?_ and still. Still.

 

The sun had just set over Boralus, which meant her mother would be finished with supper and should have retreated to the upstairs drawing room of Proudmoore Keep. It’d be a chance to get her alone. But outside the door she could hear her mother’s laugh fill the hallway, and she hesitated. Her mother was happy. Who was she to come with these news?

 

Then again, would her mother even care?

 

Another, familiar laughter joined Katherine’s. Jaina immediately shoved the door open and her eyes moved between Katherine and Azshara, the two of them cozied up in armchairs facing each other, drinks in hand.

 

Katherine looked up and smiled. ”Jaina! Oh, you’re finally home!” 

 

Jaina ignored her mother, glaring at Azshara. ”What are you doing here?”

 

Azshara rolled her eyes but rose from the armchair, her thin slip of a silk dress moving like water across her long legs. ”I was getting to know my future mother-in-law,” Azshara said, coming over to press a kiss to Jaina’s cheek. ”For example, I did not know she was such a connoisseur of whisky, nor that she has such good taste. She agrees with me on the wedding dress.”

 

”I–”

 

”You need to look _royal_. Katherine agrees, don’t you darling?”

 

Katherine nodded, sipping on her drink.

 

Jaina tugged at Azshara’s hair, pulling her face down to her level. ”What have you done to her?” she whispered. ”What spell did you cast?”

 

”I have not needed magic for this. All I did was charm her. It is far more fun.”

 

Katherine stood up, brushing off a speck of dust from her legs. ”She will make a fine wife for you.”

 

”Mother…”

 

”I had my doubts at first, but I think she will bring you many great joys.” Then she gave Jaina a look, a withering glare, that only lasted for a second. ”I just wish I could have heard the good news from you first.” Katherine smiled and bowed her head at Azshara. ”We should resume our discussion later. I fear I need to retire to my room early.”

 

The door swung shut behind Katherine, and Jaina inhaled sharply, trying to still the shaking fury brimming over in her. 

 

”You left me so rudely earlier. Really, darling, what was I to do?”

 

The sound that escaped Jaina’s lips was feral. She grabbed Azshara and pushed her, the wine glass falling to the floor as Azshara’s back slammed up against the wall so hard Azshara gasped. With magic Jaina pinned Azshara to the wall, standing on her tiptoes and leaning her full weight against Azshara. 

 

Azshara still towered above her, looking down at her in amusement. ”I like this side of you,” Azshara purred. ”The anger. The fire. The way your eyes narrow when you hone in on your target.”

 

”Is this all a game to you?” Jaina snarled. ”My family are not pieces for you to throw around!”

 

”Aren’t they? You discarded them. I am merely putting them back on the table.”

 

”What is it you want? Do you want me to suffer? Is that your sick, twisted plan?”

 

Azshara bent her knees just a little, sliding down so that her lips touched Jaina’s forehead. ”I want you to be the best version of yourself there is. I have seen what you can do when you were broken to pieces, when you pulled the sea to you and aimed it at a city. I want to see what you can do when you are made whole again.”

 

Jaina tightened the spell so hard that Azshara gasped. ”Fuck. You.”

 

Azshara nudged one of her knees in between Jaina’s legs. ”Please do.”

 

Jaina had one of her hands on Azshara’s thigh, the thin fabric pushed up from the friction of them pressed so close together. Not knowing what she was doing, she let it slide up the inside of Azshara’s leg, the skin cool. She stopped when she nudged against the apex of her thigh. 

 

”You’re not wearing anything underneath…”

 

”Why would I?” Azshara shifted her legs, leaving room for Jaina’s hand. ”I came to see you, after all.” 

 

Jaina blushed, strangely flattered, even as she glared at Azshara. The whole day she had spent running her tedious errand of invitations, meeting the disappointment and confusion of people who trusted her, people who had thought she had disappeared entirely. What a way to re-enter society: announcing a wedding to a dark, terrifying legend from history. She felt… Lost. Determined. And frustrated. So damn frustrated. 

 

She pressed a single finger in between the labia, stunned at how wet Azshara was. 

 

”Ah, _yes,_ right there…” Azshara hummed resting her head on Jaina’s, her breath hitching just a little. It edged Jaina on. ”You have been teasing me all day.”

 

”You like me angry?”

 

”I _love_ you angry. I saw the waves you summoned, poised to take out Orgrimmar. Why didn’t you?”

 

”Because I’m better than that.” Jaina sunk her finger knuckle-deep into Azshara, glaring up at her. She was infuriating. And she was beautiful – especially like this, her perfect hairstyle unravelling, a slight blush creeping over her cheeks, her eyes heavy-lidded and that smug smile giving way ever so slightly to a needy moan.

 

Of course, she did not yield that easily. ”Is that the lie you tell yourself to sleep better at night?”

 

Jaina flicked her thumb against Azshara’s clit, enjoying how it shut Azshara up. For a moment.

 

And then, Azshara wrenched one of her hands free from the force spell Jaina had her pinned under, putting it on Jaina’s hip. A current ran from Azshara’s fingertips in under Jaina’s clothing, right to her core, replicating the motion she had just done to Azshara. She bit back a gasp.

 

”I am nothing if not a generous queen,” Azshara said. 

 

Jaina pushed another finger in, and felt a similar motion inside herself, the thrill of being stretched just a little bit more to fit someone. When she curved her fingers inside Azshara, she felt the same spot being teased in herself, the same pressure of a thumb on her clit. 

 

”This is distracting,” Jaina complained.

 

”This is fun.”

 

Jaina wanted to bite back, have a witty and eviscerating comeback, but all she could do was clamp down on the moan threatening to spill out of her mouth. Azshara showed no such grace back to her, loudly letting her know how good she felt. 

 

And it felt good to hear. Oh, did it feel good. She felt herself growing obsessed with how a flex of her fingers, a thrust of them, could wrench completely different sounds from her. She wanted to hear the full range. She wanted to at least have this level of control over Azshara, over this vast new part of her life opening up in all its terrible glory. 

 

And fuck, she wanted Azshara to come and scream her name.

 

She could feel a tremor in Azshara, a tension in her body. Her back arched towards Jaina, her tongue darted out to lick her lips. ”You’re good,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.

 

Jaina stopped her hand, a third finger poised to push into Azshara, the thumb only touching the utmost tip of her clit. ”Beg,” she demanded, surprising even herself at the hard note in her voice.

 

”You think you can make a queen beg?”

 

”I will be your wife. It would reflect poorly on you if I didn’t have at least that in me.” She smirked as she met Azshara’s gaze, watching it transform from irritation to amusement.

 

”See, you are an excellent player when you try,” Azshara complimented. ”So please, Jaina. I need it. I need _you._ ”

 

”You can do better than that,” Jaina goaded. She had to try her luck. The rush of control, of power, was doing things to her.

 

”Jaina,” Azshara breathed, her voice dropping an octave. ”I want you to make me come.”

 

”I am nothing if not generous to my queen.” Jaina pressed the three fingers in, flicking her thumb against the clit, applying pressure and oh, how it replicated in her, she felt herself getting close but pushed the feeling away, focusing entirely on Azshara. She wanted to see the moment Azshara came. She wanted to see her approach the edge and topple over it.

 

Azshara gave her a true show: her eyes fluttered close, her lips parted, her breathing growing shallow. It was so satisfying to see, to feel the tremor in her body as she sucked in a breath of air, tensed her legs, and finally came. 

 

Jaina released the spell she had held Azshara in, and Azshara let go of the one she had on Jaina. The air of bliss surrounded them, Azshara stroking her hand along Jaina’s jaw, pushing her thumb against Jaina’s lips. 

 

And then, of course, Jaina had to ruin the moment. ”Why did you make Katherine think this is about love?”

 

”Is it not? Love of power. Love of your people.”

 

”You know what she thinks. I have to fix that.”

 

”Now why would you go and break her heart like that? She is happy.”

 

”It is an illusion.”

 

”She is easily swayed by soft words. You keep being harsh with her, of course she will feel hurt by all you say.”

 

Azshara bent her head down to kiss Jaina, but Jaina pulled back, evading it.

 

”Leave. _Please_.”

 

”As you wish, my dear.” Azshara was unbothered by the turn, leaving the room without as much as a glance backwards. 

 

Jaina groaned, slumping her back against the wall where she had pinned Azshara just moments before. It smelled of her – that heady mix of driftwood and ocean salt, of seaweed and musk. She drew in a deep breath,looking at her hand, at the slick wetness covering the fingers that had been inside Azshara. 

 

She pushed two of them into her mouth, moaning around them. Azshara even tasted like the sea.

 

She moved the other hand into her trousers, desperate and frustrated, and it took her barely two movements of her fingers before she came too, sliding down onto the floor in a crumpled needy mess. 


End file.
